


Black Collar Academy: Inheritance

by AshadelMG



Series: Black Collar Academy: Rise of a New World [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Choking, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, Multi, Plotty, Shower Sex, Teasing, Voyeurism, reluctance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshadelMG/pseuds/AshadelMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With an unlikely companion in tow, Marric travels to Azeroth in search of the missing dragons. In the journey may lay one more key to the salvation of the survivors, and the end of the Legion...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Papa!” The musical laughter was accompanied by the pressure of someone atop him, leaning on his chest to get his attention without restricting his ability to breathe. It was a playful, beautiful voice that spoke to him, pulling him from the deepest dreams with insistent calls for his attention. “You need to wake up, Papa. You have things to do today. Like fetch my birthday gift!”

The words muddled and faded like an old memory played countless times, but the weight did not fade, did not change. Soft and warm, it was insistent even beyond simply the words that refused to be heard completely. Enough to draw one from sleep, at least, to hear the silky purr at his ear and the delicate hands pressed to his chest, but the voice was so different. “Daddy,” it sing-songed. “It’s time to wake up, Daddy...”

The elven male’s ear twitched due to the voice’s close proximity and harmonic teasing of his sensitive skin. Slowly brought from his slumber and not yet completely able to differentiate dream from waking, he mumbled out loud. “Mmm...no, it’s my birthday..” Regardless of exactly who’s birthday it was or wasn’t, a yawn left the knight as his arms wrapped around the weight on top of him, snuggling against it.

“Oooh, is it? Well then, I have the perfect present for you, Daddy.” Vanessa yielded delightfully to his grip, her breasts pressed obscenely against his skin, nearly forcing her to pop clear out from the already tight corset she wore. Her hand slipped down between them, skittering over his groin with an expert touch. “You can just lay back and let me do it all for you,” she purred, her bottom lip clasped between her teeth.

His eyes snapped awake in terrible clarity as he was quickly pulled from his slumber. And very quickly realising who he was in bed with and the effect of his slumber and whatever the woman with him might have been playing with in his absent mindedness. Trying to sit upright and put a bit of distance between them, Marric quickly glanced around the room trying to get his bearings. “Where are we? And what are you doing in my bed?! Oi..I wasn’t drinking again, was I?”

She hardly allowed that bit of distance, her movements becoming all too quick and practiced as she slid her hand over his length with a purr, her voice a dulcet promise. “In your room in the Academy, where we’ve been for the last month. The last, horribly boring, month.” Her lips trailed along his jaw, and arm slipping around his neck as she lifted herself, letting his crown slide over her labia. “Don’t go thinking about that right now, Daddy. Baby wants a little pick me up.” She giggled, perhaps a little too childishly, a little too falsely, and readied her hips to push down on his shaft.

Marric groaned as his hands gripped at Vanessa’s wide hips, trying to keep her from sinking down. Sadly, his own shaft was massively engorged and ready to unleash nearly fifty years of pent up sexual frustration on the more than eager woman. It seemed to nearly arch up and brush against the woman’s sex with the fat tip of his cock. “Nnngh, no Vanessa! We can’t do this here. It’s a school for Light’s sake, anyone could walk in here.”

“That’s half the fun,” she growled, the playful demeanor vanishing as she realized sense was making it’s way into his head, and she was losing her chance to secure her place as the Commander’s mate. Her hands hooked beneath his wrists, trying to jerk them up to free her hips so she could impale herself on his cock, her little shimmies corkscrewing her just barely over his tip. “Come on, big boy. Just live a little. Half an inch and you can fuck me like you used to fuck your wife. No charge.”

Her hip movements were gradually grinding away his resistance and blood surged to his member. Until Vanessa made the trademark mistake of opening her mouth for speaking. Marric’s eyes flared with rage and his muscled surged with unholy strength, easily overpowering the smaller woman and pinning her beneath him with a swift flip onto his bed. “You are not EVER allowed to bring up my mate and love Vanessa. I have flayed other people for lesser reasons. The only reason I don’t feed you to Siphrion this instant, is that I owe you for all your help in Northrend. Do not make me regret that choice. Am I understood Vanessa?” It wasn’t often a thundering amount of bass was put into Marric’s voice. But Vanessa had that effect on him. In many ways naturally.

Any other woman would have been terrified. Any rational woman should have been, and would have been quickly making apologies for their grievous mistake. Not Vanessa. She was neither rational nor completely sane, indicated to by how she threw her legs around his hips, tightening them to pull her lower body up against his length. “Yes, hurt me! Come on, it’ll feel good. You’ll want to do it again and again, I swear it.” She fairly writhed under him, trying to get him inside her, trying so desperately to complete the moment.

“Fuck me, and I won’t ever say it again. Fuck me, and the only reason I’ll ever open my mouth again is to stick your fat cock in it and swallow your cum.” She bit her bottom lip, thrusting her hips up. “Light, fuck me, you idiot! You’ll fuck an elven whore, why won’t you take something better!?”

His hand left from simply pinning her body down and instead gripped around her pretty slender throat. And went about applying more and more pressure, cutting off her air supply and if he didn’t let go soon...bruises at her neck were going to be the least of her problems. “I hope you are better at begging for your life, than you are at bartering for my body. The fortunate part is...no one here will question me for doing this.”

“Nnnn.” It was the only sound she could manage as he slowly closed off her breathing, but instead of frightening her, it only served to turn her on more. Her hand swept down between them, the wet squelch of insertion heard as she forced nearly her entire hand into her slit and furiously fucked herself as her body began to spasm with lack of air. “You like that? Want your bitches dying when you fuck them?” She rasped out the words, licking her darkening lips as the words spoken made her struggle for breath. 

Marric rolled his eyes at Vanessa’s obscene words and actions. Rather than sink to her level of depravity, his hand released her throat, simply remaining kneeling over her. With a soft sigh, he spoke. “I never know what I’m going to do with you Vanessa. I can only hope you smarten up when I have to leave here.”

“Tsk.” Even with her struggling to regain her breath, she showed an admirable amount of strength in how she pressed her hands against his chest, shoving him off of her as she rolled off her back and the bed. “Frankly, I don’t give two shits what you do with me. I spent fifty years servin’ you, and it got me fuck all. You won’t spend a night or two with me, but you drop trouser the second your little elf bitch friend comes back.” With far too practiced of movements, she went about tugging the tight leather leggings she had discarded during his sleep back on. “Don’t think you’ll have much to worry about once you’re gone. There’s plenty of men and women who’ll keep me warm and safe.”

Marric sighed as he stood up to grab a pair of pants, ignoring the very real urge to slap Vanessa for the second remark against one of his closest friends, who now faced death for the second time. Instead, the idea of a very hot shower seemed like a better idea. “I never asked you to serve me, I wanted your help in trying to save others. And believe it or not..I’m very grateful for that help.” Grabbing a towel and throwing it over his shoulder he glanced back at her. “I’m just not willing to give up what you want.”

“Whatever. Your son has been exceptionally warm. Whatever you don’t want, he’ll happily take.” She flopped to the bed again and worked to pull on and lace her boots, tugging the laces harshly before tying and standing. Running her fingers through her hair, she sauntered to the door, remarking at last with an almost bored tone. “Oh, and there was some little whelp hanging about your door earlier. Blind half-breed with horns. Requested that you speak to her mother at your earliest convenience. Since you’ve gone soft, I suppose that’ll be after you’ve bathed.”  
Marric wasn’t too keen on Vanessa hounding his son. “I don’t need to look after my son. He’s been raised well so far, he has his own life to live, and his own choices to make. Or live with.” The late message though caught his attention, a raised eyebrow marking his curiosity. “Interesting. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll go see her in a bit.” His instinct and natural practice had him marching over to his runeblade but paused as his fingers touched the hilt. He had to remind himself that where he currently was, was safe. Or, as ‘safe’ one could be at this point. Some habits of a knight died hard. 

“Oh, trust me. He’s done well enough without you.” And with that parting shot, she was gone.

-

To anyone else, the amount of steam coming from the lone shower stall would have been curious. Actual investigation would have been worrying, due to how hot the water was, and the fact that someone was willingly bathing in such intense heat, causing the elf’s skin to pinken. Marric’s hand twitched and flexed intensely as pain wracked him again. The downside to living in hiding for so long as a death knight had a horrible repercussion on his body that left him in pain. Pain that he would not let anyone see. He had whispered apologies to Ashadel in their frenzied romp, the first outlet for him in many ways in almost fifty years. 

But perhaps worse than having to constantly try to ignore Vanessa’s attempts, was having to fight the gnawing urge to cause pain to others. But sometimes there was only so much one could do. The sudden smack of flesh on stone echoed off the narrow enclosure until slight cracks appeared and blood ran from his fist. A bit of flexing and clenching his fist pushed away the pain. At least for a little bit. Turning off the water allowed the cool breeze to kiss at his overheated body. Leaving him to face his solitude. And the painful erection that Vanessa had left him with. “Damnit..”

“She’s a bit of an annoyance, ain’t she?” It was only a voice at first, hard to see the owner through the steam, but it wasn’t long before a slim brunette appeared, leaning against the shower opening. “Just flounces about, keeping her legs as spread as they can be in hopes they’ll settle about a pair of hips. Surprising, that a girl with birthing hips like that doesn’t have a litter or twelve following her around.”

Marric was suddenly glad he was facing forward, as little as that covered on a man of his stature and build. But at least it gave him a semblance of modesty. “It’s for her ego. She wants a trophy. I just refuse to be one.” He waited for a bit, but still sensed their presence. “I’m not sure what I can help you with, if you’re looking for something.”

“I don’t know. You’re a pretty nice trophy just waiting to be picked up. At the very least, you’re easy on the eyes.” The girl tipped her head to the side, making no effort to hide her wandering eyes that she matched with a devilish, though completely warm, grin. “And, to be fair, I don’t think it’s me in need of help. There’s not many like you around. One, maybe two. Old stories still hold strong, I’d guess. That, and… well, don’t turn around quickly. You’ll put out an eye.”

A slight sigh left him. “Thank you for the compliment. But I’m not sure many can help with the problems I have.” One hand left the stone to run through the long, crimson mane of hair draped across his muscled back, hiding old scars of the past. Still, his head turned to glance back her way. “What old stories?”

“Pain. Sorry, but it’s harder than some think to hide the noises in here. I’ve heard them all, and there’s a fairly large difference between flesh on flesh, and flesh on stone. If you need a fix, you could go down to the training circle. Pretty sure the Wardens would happily help you vent a bit of that need. Other needs… well, everyone is usually happy to lend a hand.” As if by magic, she offered up a cloth and a bar of soap. “For example, I can wash your back. I’m good with my hands, I’m told.”

One of his glowing eyes peered at her for a moment. His response came in the form of one hand gathering up his hair and sweeping it across a shoulder, tucking it across his chest and offering his back to the girl. “As much as it might help me, I don’t think Kas’viri would appreciate if I put one of her Wardens or students in critical condition.”

She flashed a smile, green eyes bright and harmless as she lathered up the cloth. “You’re pretty new here, so it’s understandable. Things don’t work the way they worked back home. You might have been formidable there, but here? Here you might be the weakest of us all. You’ll not know until you try. As it is, any of the physical trainers could very likely put you on your ass for a week or more without trying.” Her fingers danced over the lowest point of his back, sliding slickly up his spine to fan over his shoulders.

“Not to say you’re weak or anything, just that you shouldn’t be that worried about hurting someone. Everyone is fairly skilled, here. Eaxoa alone could probably patch any wound you’d inflict. Light knows, she’s saved a few accidents with the animal class.” She used her entire hand, alternating between firm rubbing with her fingertips to almost kneading with the heels of her hand; clearly, he was getting a massage as well as a cleaning.

He let out a deep relaxed sigh as much of the tenseness and soreness was kneaded and rubbed free from his worn body. It was something he hadn’t been able to enjoy in many years. But still made somewhat bitter due to the fact it was coming from someone he barely knew. “I’ll think about it. I do need to speak with her though, apparently I’m asked to come see her once I’m free.”

“This early, she’s likely in a class. So, you have some time to unwind. Get settled. Work out the kinks.” She sought out every knot, gently working it until it released and let him relax a little more. Little by little, and with generous reapplications of the soap, she was wearing him down without being too intrusive. Almost. By the time she finished his back, it might have been a surprise to see her around his front, peering up at him with large green eyes and that devilish grin again. Her fingers danced over the ‘v’ of his pelvis, barely a touch at all. “What happens in the showers, stays in the showers…”

He was feeling greatly relaxed. Up until he saw her face peering up at him, causing his mouth to shift into a sort of disappointed frown. He was about to speak until the gentle grazing of fingers down his hips and across his pelvis, the feather light touch almost a tickle that caused him to suck in air, giving a better display of his muscled abdomen, and bobbing of his still frustrated member. His fingers clenched into tight fists as he again tried to steady himself. “As….nice of an offer as that sounds. I really don’t think I should agree to anything at this time..”

“Even something with no strings?” Her hand surrounded his length, pulling just enough to bring him forward a few steps, where she released him and instead slid her hands along his arms and down, gently coaxing his hands to the wall. “You don’t have to touch me, you don’t even have to look at me. No promises, no hidden meanings… just me giving you a hand so you don’t sit here damning yourself for the rest of the day, or longer.” The pad of her finger drew lazy circles around his tip, as if purposefully shattering his concentration. “Nothing to commit to, I swear it.”

An unsteady breath left him. “Especially something with no strings..” A soft grunt left him as she led him closer by his length, throbbing hard in tune to the beat of his heart. His hands pressed firmly against the wall, the shifting of muscles in his arms seen as he pressed against it, almost as if pushing against an invisible barrier of his own mental struggle. A light gasp tugged from him suddenly as she teased the sensitive and swollen tip of his aroused manhood. “Nngh, silence is still compliance though..”

“That might work for others, but here…” She dragged those soft fingers down his length, encircling it and giving one firm and long stroke before releasing, “... it just doesn’t work like that, for me. I’m very vocal, you see. I need those I tend to to be just as vocal. A yes, or a no. Not silence… not something that can be misconstrued.” Rising up on tip toes, she pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and dropped the soapy rag over his member before sidling away. “Besides… I’d hardly want to make you late, and you’d be just too good to rush with. Enjoy your day, sir.”

A deep grunt left him as her hand gave that long stroke to his thick rod, swelling with appreciating for her ‘handshake’, even if it was a response against his will. And the soapy rag squishing against the hot, sensitive skin simply felt divine. Was it really that bad to say yes? Wouldn’t he just do it himself at this point? Maybe...just this once? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Wait.” He finally croaked out, before the footsteps were too far away. Assuming she had waited to her what else he had wanted to say, he responded clearly, so that was nothing ‘misconstrued’ to what he was saying. “...Yes.”

“Yes… what?” Pretty green eyes seemed to glow through the steam, her head peeking around the wall of the stall as she twisted brown hair around a delicate finger. 

Even though the steam, it was easy to see glowing blue eyes rolling in annoyance. It just had to be someone that would draw it out as tortuously as possible. “Yes...you can continue.”

“With?” The girl stepped closer, her tongue clasped between her teeth in an expression of extreme, childishly mature, amusement. 

A very audible sigh left as he turned around fully, completely exposed to the girl standing in his shower stall. It was an amusing sight in all reality: A grumpy knight with a cross look on his face, arms folded, and a soapy rag draped over his raging hardon like a blinding hood. “With a manicure. What do you think? You can continue with what you started on me.”

“Mmm.” She neared him again, fingers touching over hard abs with a purr. “Well, I suppose I’m hardly one to decline such a well put request.” Her hand dropped lower, fingers clasping to remove the cloth in one slow motion, dragging the fabric over his turgid length, her own body pressing ample breasts against him, her diminutive size more apparent against his own height. “Any other… requests?”

Marric’s arms swept out to his sides, bracing himself against the walls of the shower he occupied. He let his head fall back, the heated water rushing down against the cascade of crimson hair flowing down the elf’s back, centering his thoughts until a shaky sigh finally left him. “For now… not stopping will suffice.” He grunted as his body reacted to her touch, stomach sucking in under the scratch of her nails, the mild bite of pain washed over by a tide of heat from where his member throbbed as it was revealed.

She spared no other words, surprising him in her eagerness with how she kneeled before him, removing the last of the cloth with her teeth. Her breath was warm on his skin, the tip of her nose dragged along the underside of his shaft until her lips and chin met his sac. She nuzzled there gently, expelling an appreciative purr before lapping her tongue clear from base to tip, her lips quickly encircling there to suckle wantingly.

A long, deep, and guilty groan left him as her breath washed over his groin, followed by the slow trail her tongue made, nails scratching into the stone while she nursed from his cock, the slickness of her tongue felt easily against the hot skin as she slowly coaxed him into her willing mouth. The slow going was torture, her saliva pooling in the back of her throat to be squished out around his cock and down her chin as the fat head reached the back of her throat.   
Her slurping was nearly audible over the shower, but it did nothing to shame him. One hand dropped down, twining in luscious, damp locks to control his mysterious helper, though every long and expert stroke of her lips drawn tight around his length made him want to do little more than topple her back against the wall, take her hair in both hands, and ravage her mouth until she could feel nothing more than the ache of his violation and his need.

Green eyes closed as his second hand fisted in her hair, but she proved remarkably resistant to being pushed back, going so far as to push forward, meeting each buck of his hips with a mouth made as loose as possible. He marveled at how her seemingly tiny features could take him without harm - surely, teeth should have been an issue - and how skilled she was, an appreciative growl rumbling from him as he finally sank fully into her mouth, her nose pressed flush against his pelvis.

Her throat was tight and warm, instinctive swallowing forcing a delightful grip and tremor around his cock that threatened to bring him to the edge without much more needed. When he finally released her, she wrapped her arms around him, crossing them beneath his ass and pulling herself to him. When he thought she might faint from her strange worship, she pulled off with a heaving gasp, freeing his cock to bob just above her tits, spit and precum dripping to hit her skin and mingle with the water from the shower.

“Impressive,” he murmured, watching her nimble figure stand and turn around, a slender foot placed up on the ledge normally reserved for those who simply couldn’t stand. The view was enough to make him twitch, a hungry growl leaving him as she slid a hand up her thigh and around, spreading near perfect globes of flesh to reveal her pucker, stretched and held open by an ornately crafted wooden plug set with a pretty, though plain, stone. “There’s a surprise.”

“Not my first time to this sort of… agreement. I can keep going with my mouth, but I’d be lying if I tried to say that I think I’ve got a better place for that.”

“Fair enough,” he mused, a hand reaching out to run his thumb around the rim of the gem before he took hold and pulled, his free hand pressing into her supple rear to keep her pinned in place as he drew the plug out. Her groan was music to his ears, and he took his time in gently keeping her pucker open with his thumbs, teasing her with the tip of his cock as he rocked back and forth, letting the slippery helmet touch and push, then retreat until she whimpered.

With a chuckle, he slid his hands to her hips, still holding tight to the control as he pulled her back onto his throbbing crown, letting her experience the torture that she had put on him just moments before. Their groans became mutual, the slow press finally ending when he bottomed out inside of her, leaning his body over her own while he twitched and dragged purrs from her with little more than the beat of his pulse through his throbbing cock.

When he was certain she was suited to him like a glove to a hand, he straightened and twisted a hand in her hair again, his other hand gripping her hip to steady her as his pace quickened, his strokes long and firm, letting her stretched and sensitive ring be tugged by his tip, stretched around it, and pushed through again. Her hands moved from his, one braced against the wall in front of her while the other reached between her legs to grasp at his sac, missing twice before his heavy balls all but fell into her hand.

He closed the distance, his pace quickening even further at her urging, his own breathing a ragged pant against the back of her neck, grunts breaking the quick and wet slap of flesh on flesh now echoing through the stall. Her moans became murmurs, little promises tangled up in dirty lies that both knew would never see daylight past that point. When he felt her spasm and squeeze around him, he leaned forward again, a hand slipping around and down, slipping deftly past the hand she attempted to swipe his own away with, and straight to her groin.

“Not fair if it’s just me,” he murmured past her mewl, his hand turning to curl and press into her folds, his pace slowing in confusion as he found himself unable to find them. He turned from gentle rubbing to groping, paling as his fingers touched on something just too large to be the pearl he sought, but too small to be what he dreaded it was. With a groan, he straightened again and peered down, spotting the hairless sac that dangled just a little too close to his own.

“I’m sorry. I’m still learning, I thought I could hold it. It wasn’t my intention…”

Despite the feminine voice, the curves he had been drawn to were gone. From behind, his companion looked female enough, if a little on the scrawny side. What was once luxurious hair made damp by the water was now fine and mousy brown, skin mottled with old love bites and the faded marks of bites no doubt done in the midst of passion. The girl - Marric felt that it was best to stay with that thought - looked to him, a plea deep in her eyes as much as in her voice.

“I won’t tell. It’s not pretty for either of us, and I gave you my word. Nothing leaves here… but don’t leave us like this. Not this close, not this empty.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Marric knew without a doubt that the situation they were poised in was just as humiliating for the girl as it might have been for him - if anyone was to walk in.

His ears twitched, listening for footsteps or any sign that anyone was anywhere close. When nothing came to his hearing but the sound of water and their own heavy breathing, he let his head fall between the shoulderblades of the one he was so firmly entrenched in. Muttering an oath under his breath, and a threat that may have been more out of private guilt than anything else.

If there had been any room for tenderness and teasing before, the urge to finish them both and move on was far more overpowering. His hands fisted once more, a guttural command forcing his companion to brace against the wall to break what could have been a fall under the force of his weight. Skin scraped on stone as she was forced lower still, his palm flat between her shoulder blades. 

His movements were more assault than finesse, but both were too far gone to care. The girl beneath him near howled as her ass was forced to bear Marric’s girth at a faster pace, but she made no sound for him to stop. As he fisted a hand in her hair again, she growled out slurs that would make most whores blush, bucking back against him until, almost blessedly, they howled out in unison, Marric’s hands gripping his companion’s hips to pull her back tight against him, his cock throbbing as she wriggled and writhed, the stone beneath her painted with her own spunk while her ass was drenched in his own.

Marric did not linger, hardly allowing either to relish the feeling before he pulled out and staggered back, turning his eyes away from the girl’s ass as his sticky cum leaked from her gaping pucker. Neither looked at the other, both wiping themselves off while attempting to find the words that would make the situation less than what it was. When words came, it was not from either of them.

“I’m glad to see you have adjusted to finding your way about, old friend.” Xaedryx’s quiet voice was heard keenly by both of them, the girl paling even more than Marric himself possibly could, and she worked to cover herself while the Kaldorei woman focused on her companion. “Eaxoa is unfortunately indisposed. I’ve come to fetch you myself, as I am just as capable of filling you in as she is.” A towel was offered to him, and she kept her unnervingly passive gaze on his face as he wrapped the thick cloth around his waist.

“I will wait for you in the Commons. We can speak further in my chambers, where it will be private.” Her gown rustled as she stepped back, a hand gesturing the path down the hall. “My assistant has a comfortable set of traveling clothes already prepared for you. Once you are ready, we can talk.” She lifted a hand, touching lightly on his shoulder as he tried to pass. “Some things will never be discussed.” Her eyes met his, and he nodded, leaving the two women behind.

“I did not accept your request to be taught so that you could use your abilities to sneak into the beds of those on these lands.” The passive tone the priestess had held before was gone, the icy disappointment laced like a virulent poison in her words. As she spoke, she strode slowly towards the cowering figure, every step calculated as she circled her. “If you wish to whore yourself about, you will do so as the pathetic excuse that you are.”

“I’m s-sorry, Mistress. I just -...”

“Wanted to feel a real man?” The woman’s voice turned cruel, and she was quick in gripping the human girl by her hair, dragging her to the very place she had spilled her seed. “Clean it. On your hands and knees like the bitch you are,” her foot lifted, striking out at the backs of slender knees to bring the girl down. Her hand circled around the back of her neck, holding her face to the drying spunk as she leaned and whispered. “You’re a pathetic, tiny, little boy who cn hardly hold up a half-decent illusion. The best you are used for is as the cock sleeve for men like the one who left.” Straightening, Xaedryx cast one more savage look at the girl, watching her lap up her own seed with tears streaming down her face.

“When you are serious about your training,” the elven woman picked up the long forgotten wooden plug, and all but shoved it back into the now sobbing girl’s loose and gaping hole, delivering a painfully brutal strike to the pale, raised backside, “you will come to me on hands and knees in proper attire. Until then, you will continue your work in the stables and you will not think of wasting my time, let alone the time of anyone else.”

“N-no… Mistress, p-please…”

“You came to me, Tyler. You have proven to be nothing more than a waste of my time and not worth the attention you begged of me, on your knees with that sad excuse of a cock under my heel.” Xaedryx’s eyes narrowed as she moved away. “When you are serious, you will come to me. Until then, you will play the cocksleeve to greater men than you. Am I understood?”

“Y-yes…” Tyler had no need to continue, her only company that of falling water, and Xaedryx’s near-silent whisk of cloth against stone that betrayed her footsteps. "M-mistress..."


	2. Chapter Two

Perhaps it was merely that he knew someone was waiting for him, but he felt like only a few moments had passed before he was walking into the Common Hall, one hand ruffling through damp hair in an effort to get it out from beneath the collar of his shirt while his eyes scanned the room for the presence of the kaldorei woman. At first glance, he found the usual suspects; the buxom girl and her twin sister in an act of violating some vegetable or another, the pair of students studying dutifully in the corner with one another’s hands up the other’s robes, and the woodsgirl-in-training with her hound companion beneath the table, lapping happily at her bare snatch were all as present as he had come to expect them to be.

Xaedryx sat in plain sight, her passive behavior bringing her into sharp focus more than her richly tailored clothing or ethereal looks. He was no stranger to the woman, though they could never have been considered friends. Passing acquaintances, perhaps. There had always been a wall between them; where most were happy to know the man who guarded the Caravan, the woman herself had been more interested in speaking to others more important than one of his station. Nevermind the eerie feeling around her, like a constant presence of being watched from the shadows.

“Marric,” she offered in polite welcome as he neared, gesturing to a plate of cold meat and cheese that was set before her by a young elven woman frequently seen in her company. “I thought that you might want something to eat before we delve into more personal matters. It would be quite wrong of me to have you discuss your plans on an empty stomach. Erys, fetch the Commander some wine, if you would. Or, perhaps, juice?” The blonde servant paused, looking to him for his response.

“Just juice, thank you.” He said, offering a glance to the girl. Sitting opposite he helped himself to the food, having skipped out on breakfast in favor of..other activities that he’d rather not recall at this point. As he chewed, his shoulders rolled as he still sought to grow used to the new clothing he was gifted with. Simple leather of dark browns and black suited him just fine, as did the white shirt he wore with a brown vest with red trimming, almost as if someone went to the trouble to custom tailor it to him. He didn’t bother with the gloves that came with it, instead just stuffing them into a matching pants pocket.

“So I hear you’ve been looking for me. I didn’t think I had much to offer anyone around here, save random physical labor, which honestly suits me fine. But I suppose Kas has more important things in mind.” His eyes glanced to Xaedryx’s while he ate.

“Indeed.” The elven woman watched her apprentice dash off, a surprisingly tender look taking over her features for just the moment it took to speak. “The more serious conversation can wait until we return to my study. For now, we can speak about the smaller, less meaningful things. You’ve been here a month and I’ve heard not a peep. You are finding things to your liking? You are comfortable, I would hope? We can arrange for a private home in one of the towns, if it would suit you better. I know that sharing a hall with youth can be… tiring.”

Marric gave a simple shrug of his shoulders while placing another slice of meat between his teeth, ripping it in half and beginning to chew. “Things are fine. I don’t mind the students. Not too much different than being with a platoon of pent up soldiers. Only difference here is they have the luxury to indulge themselves. Any other troubles… I’ve had almost fifty years to learn to deal with by now.”

“Ah, but one would hope that there would come a time where you could retire, and enjoy the last of your years in peace.” Her hand moved, gesturing to the others in the hall. “As you can see, when one is young enough to enjoy the fruits of youth, they’ll take any chance they can get. I wish it were so easy for those of us who know the truth of the matter. Perhaps telling them would only speed the fervor with which they go at it. Ah, thank you Erys.” The blonde smiled at them both, setting down a glass of juice and a cup of wine before scooting in to sit beside the woman.

“It wouldn’t help them any. It’s hard to learn when you have doom hanging over your head. Besides, it isn’t easy to look at a group of people and tell them that they’re going to die. One of those things in life that never gets any easier.” He pauses, giving a hint of a smile to the young blonde as he takes the glass and drinks from it. “Regardless, I never saw myself being able to retire. Not at first anyway.”

“I suppose not.” Her hand moved to touch lightly on the blonde hair of the girl beside her, as loving as it was possessive. “One would hope there is a day you do see yourself retiring.”

He replies in a smirk. “Considering where I’m being sent, I’m not exactly holding my breath for that outcome. Doesn’t bother me though. It’s probably where I truly belong. I helped people get to safety. But I don’t know if I belong here.”  
“In the hearts of many, I’m sure they share that same sentiment. Between you and I, there are things about the old world that I do miss dearly. Mostly my library, if I am to be honest. What I would give to have those tomes back, if only to gift them to the next generation. We do not belong here, Marric. Some, more than others. Yet, we have no choice. I do believe you were there when the path to Draenor was closed, and that world was far more gone than Azeroth was.”

One of his fingers gently taps at his glass. “We’ve lost too much. I don’t know how much more we can lose before some of us begin to break.” He gives a sigh, taking another drink. “But I suppose that’s why some of us continue to push on and struggle. To give hope to others, so that they can do the same.”

“And part of that hope stems from you, in a fashion.” Her cryptic words made his ears twitch, but she spoke nothing more on the matter. “We can take the rest of the meal in my study. I think the pleasant conversation is at an end for the moment, don’t you?”

He gave a chuckle. “If that’s what you call pleasant conversation, I can’t wait for the next portion.” He picked up the remaining scraps of meat and cheese, stuffing them into his mouth before raising to his feet, gesturing to the women to lead the way. The girl flashed him a quick smile before taking up the platter and dashing off, Xaedryx leading the way out of the common hall and down the halls to a set of stairs. 

“The teachers generally sleep in the same places as their students, but I wanted something a little more private. Let us hope a set of stairs will not be your undoing, hmm?” Her tone was almost one of teasing, but he knew well enough not to expect such from her. Still, he followed her willingly up the flights, losing count of the number as they ascended. When she finally halted, it was beside a simple door set into a wall with no other decoration. She opened it and stepped aside, allowing him to enter before she did.

The door closed, plunging them both into darkness until she snapped, and the room illuminated to reveal a comfortable, if admittedly a little lavish, study. Circular in design, the wall opposite them was an arch that lead to a balcony overlooking the academy’s slowly growing library. Closer, a thick carpet kept feet warm even in the cooler months, guarding bare feet from cold stone. A few personal bookshelves held a scattering of books, though most shelves held more parchment and ink than any literature. 

The light source itself was a comfortable fire in a simple fireplace, the chairs pushed back far enough that the relaxing form of an elderly saber, the massive beast clearly too old to be much of an adventuring companion or mount, but dear enough to be allowed to keep warm in the more private chamber. There were a scattering of spindly chairs, and a set of three around a hard rectangular desk. Xaedryx made her way to one, offering him a spot while she removed the cloth covering something atop the desk. Revealed, Jaran’s blade had been cleaned and well-cared for, nearly new despite all the nicks and marks from years of use.

“Now, we discuss the most important things. Do not mind Crisp,” the great cats ears twitched, and it raised it’s head to look at him with tired eyes before returning to comfortable sleep, “he was a greater cat years before, but he is little more than a companion, now.”

He was silent as he followed, making simple notes of his surrounding until he was led into Xaedryx’s private chambers. A faint smile was given to the saber, until the woman’s movements drew his attention to the blade laying upon her desk. “Ahhh. So that’s what this is about.” Marric moved over to her desk, sitting opposite of her once again. “Go ahead, ask away.” He said as he reclined back, folding one leg over a knee.

“Not… entirely. In truth, you know that I must ask you a question we both know the answer to. I could feign innocence, but I have learned over the course of many years that I must also court what some would call chance. Jaran is not here, we both know that. It is my hope that you can at least tell me where he is, or where he last was.” She sat, leaning back comfortably in a seat that no doubt had been long beaten into the perfect support for her, and waited for him to speak.

“The last I saw of him was where many of us where. Trying to stem the rapidly rising tide of demons spilling over us. In fact, if I had to guess, that’s exactly what he’s doing now. It’s what he does best after all. Probably with Kas’viri’s mother and some others of note who have yet to be accounted for. Those are two people that aren’t the type to go easily.”

“I had a feeling it would be too easy to simply hope he had found a safe place.” Her fingers trailed over the blade, and he waited for her to stop musing in silence. “I did not inform ‘Viri of this when you and yours arrived. She has no idea that his blade is here. It is my hope that you and I might make a private arrangement; until we know where he is, and his condition, his blade remains a secret between you and I. Are you adverse to this?”

Marric is quiet a moment, but simply shrugs. “Fine with me. I was just holding on to it until he got back. This way, it won’t be me that loses a head for misplacing his blade.” He says with a smirk. “If that’s all you wanted to talk to me about, you probably could have just asked me at my room.”

“It won’t be simply he who makes a pass for my head, with this secret.” Her hand passed over the blade, and it vanished from sight. “If this was all that I had to discuss with you, then I would have simply spoken to you in the showers. As it is, what we have to truly speak of is best kept between only those who have a need to know. When you remained in Northrend, did you do much traveling to the areas outside of the Hills?”

His eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Generally I was on those search parties that went out looking for stragglers and survivors. When I could manage to pry away from leadership duties. Why do you ask?”

Instead of responding, she stood again and moved to one of the bookshelves, taking out one of the very few full books. Setting it in front of him, she moved to sit again, allowing - permitting, he conceded - him to page through the heavy book. Opening the cover alone was an interesting experience; the first page was a detailed drawing of the anatomy of a dragon’s wing, from the scaled outside down to the very muscles and bones. 

“Call me curious. There are some who hold to old hates and bitterness, hence my desire to be in private for this. We expected, all those years ago, that the dragons would be staunch allies against the Legion and their armies. As you well know, they never came. Northrend is the home of their dying grounds, and their temple. Have you made any voyages that way, or were you more focused on the southern lands?”

He thought for a moment in silence. “Not many. We were always careful about traveling by air, lest we be seen and alert the legion to where we were hiding. Dragonblight lies in an area that’s somewhat difficult to reach on foot from the Hills. But any trips we did make there, nothing could be found. Do you think something there could be hidden? Something that we might have overlooked?”

“I have no doubts that there is nothing there but old bones, long forgotten. Did you have many dragons with you, in your camps?”

“Only Siphiron, a twilight dragon. I found him as a freshly hatched whelping when the Obsidian Sanctum was discovered long ago. He was just an infant...I didn’t think he deserved to be judged by those who would have dominated what he would become. So I took him with me and raised him.”  
“When the others seemed to vanish, did he experience any negative effects?”

“None that I can think of… I mean, he has the affinity for magic, that’s to be expected. As he grows, so would his hunger. I would take him to what remained of Coldara to feed on the mana wyrms there.”

“As I would expect, truth be told.” She steepled her fingers, touching the tips to her chin in thought. “If he were to go mad without his Aspect, I would think it would have happened a long time ago. You have done well for him, Marric. You should be quite proud. Perhaps it is good that Kas’viri intended you to be the one to find out where his brethren, however distant in blood they might be, have vanished to.” Setting her elbow on the arm of the chair, she propped her head against her fist and considered him. 

He’s quiet once again before he responds. “Thank you. It sounds like you were hoping I might be able to provide a clue towards some of the many questions we have lingering about them. I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark as everyone else about what happened. I just hope in the end, I’ll be able to find the answers.”

“That’s the intention. I was hoping that you would be able to narrow the focus, but it seems that your task is going to be very difficult. Perhaps more difficult than the task of anyone else. I inquired on your health and comfort more for my benefit than your own; had you not been ready, I would have made certain to have you moved so that you would recover quickly. As it is, I admit that I believe you are ready to leave here. Perhaps, even, you wish to leave yourself.” Her head tilted, a curiously innocent movement so unfitting for her.

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “My health is of no concern to anyone. Besides, time is a luxury we can’t afford at the moment. I suppose once I’ve gathered my things and said my goodbyes, I can leave as soon as necessary. Provided I avoid any more distractions.”

“Your health is of great concern to at least one. With your wife and daughter passed, and her mother and father missing, you and your son are Kas’viri’s only family. It is part of the reason I wish Jaran’s blade to remain a secret between you and I at the moment. I fear that Kas’viri would go to no end to find those who are missing, discarding all thought to her own health. I am sure that you could understand that, no doubt willing to do anything to return your family to you.” Though she said it gently, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. 

“Time is an unaffordable luxury, I will agree. However, it would hardly benefit any of us if you were to be sent back only to end up dying because you were not recovered. I would assume that would not be the case, at this moment?”

He seemingly ignored the sentiment of his family, a subject he certainly wasn’t eager to bring up. “Not unless your assistant slipped something into the food and drink that was left for me. I’m as healthy as just about any other man around. I trust I won’t need to submit to a physical before I leave, will I?”

“No. ‘Viri trusts your word, and so I will as well.” Settling better into her chair, the priestess continued. “It is important to us that we find out what happened to our timeless friends. Even if that answer ends up you simply learning that they have all died, it is still an answer that we need. Should you be lucky enough to find one of the Aspects, it would be best that you consider convincing them to help. We have few drakes, a full-grown dragon would be enough to turn a battle in our favor, if it came down to it.

“The misfortune is in not knowing where they might have gone. My assumption would have been to their dying grounds, but you found nothing to support that. It leaves me at a loss, which is a very rare and unfortunate circumstance for me to be put into. I can not offer you security, I must simply tell you to go and wander until you find something of use. It is a sorry situation, I will admit.”  
Marric shrugs, with an odd smile on his face. “If it were that easy, I’m sure it would have been done long ago. Be that as it may I’ll wander Azeroth as long as I need to until I find answers, one way or another. Hopefully, it’ll be an answer somewhat in our favor. I think the people here could use some good news for a change. I think we all could.”

“Good news would be a blessed thing, you are right. As long as we are on the subject of good news, I would think you would be one to be happy with the latest from ‘Viri. Our illustrious, and ever so favorite, rogue is responding well to whatever they have been doing to her. She is not healed, nor has she woken… but she has not fallen further into the corruption. If our luck holds, she may make it through her ordeal and be here to welcome you home. Or, perhaps, join you in your search.”

He nodded, a faint smile on his face. “It’s good to hear something remotely positive for a change. Although I can’t imagine she’ll be well enough to follow me to Azeroth. Although, maybe it won’t be a suicide mission and I might find my way back, by the graces of whatever deity hasn’t forsaken us.”

“She was never one to sit idly.” Xaedryx rubbed her temples briefly before standing, pulling a small satchel from her desk and offering it over to him. “I think it best that you leave your drake here, though I cannot blame you for wishing to take him with you if you do. If you don’t, there is a whistle there for one of ‘Viri’s personal flock. It will help you as long as you need, provided you keep it with you. Additionally, you will find a small crystal. It will alert you to demonic presence, in the off chance that there is activity. It does not work within the wards of this estate or the outlying towns, but will suffice for your journey. 

“I have also included a pair of our emblems, much like the old pendant of the Caravan. It will help you communicate with someone, should you be lucky enough to find a living soul on that quickly dying world. At the very least, it can help keep you sane. It will not work between worlds, but… nothing is perfect. Erys has already packed a bag for you, full of supplies that you might need. I hate to be so urgent… but I would leave before morning. It might be better.” She offered him a rolled up parchment, sealed with a purple wax.

“This can be given to the gate keeper. As a warning, the gate will deposit you in a completely random area. We have no control over that, nor do we wish there to be. Coming back will be difficult, but we tend to have at least one waystation set up on each continent… the pin can help you find one. If nothing else, the magic of a dragon would be enough to shatter any illusory wards, and you’d see them easily. If not… well, it was a pleasure working with you.”

“Your faith in me is astounding,” he quipped, rising to take the items in hand. 

“I live to please,” she murmured, gesturing for him to close the door behind him when he left. With the conversation apparently over, he left without asking anything more, leaving the priestess staring at an arch suspiciously.

Hours later, Petra was still sure she could feel the woman’s glare on her. It was one thing to be caught snooping, but being caught by Xaedryx felt like every inch of the Nightmare had been dropped on her! Even taking to the air, shedding the form of the annoying insect to become that of a falcon, hardly helped her nerves. She was lucky that the priestess had decided not to investigate; Xaedryx was well-known for being very intolerant of those who invaded her personal space.

Still, the momentary fright was fading and changing direction. She had been riding thermals for hours, letting the moonlight play over wings that were as white as snow; the easy indicator to the few dragons that flew as to who she was. Below her, the grounds stretched out, the denizens surprisingly quiet given their usual activity. Petra could hardly blame them. The last month had seen the casual aspects of the school laid low beneath rigorous training and lessons, and most barely had enough energy to crawl into their respective beds.  
She turned from her place above the school and flew towards one of the towns, homing in on one of the outlying farms. By the time she touched down on the grass, she was human again, welcomed by the lazy horse that her mother and father used to pull the cart that held their wares for market. The sound of the nicker, the gentle noise she’d fairly grown up with, made her heart sink, and she found that all of her joy and happiness was hard to pull to the surface.

Her life was there, in that farm house and the surrounding woods. She knew nothing else than the new world, and though her parents had filled her mind with tales of the old world, there had always been that gap. They were not from here, and she was not from there. The old mare happily accepted her offered treat of an apple, pressing the velvet nose of her muzzle against Petra’s cheek while she chomped at the fruit. Like always, she was reminded that her mood was quickly transferred to the nearby creatures, and she apologized with another apple and a sweet kiss. As always, she was forgiven and forgotten, the mare moving off into her stable.

“Are they asleep, Nyx?”

She didn’t turn her head to look at the large long-haired housecat sitting just off the stoop. After all the years they’d been together, she never expected an answer to her question, either. Not from him. Her curiosity was answered in another way, the heavy thump of familiar weight hitting a window above and to her side. 

The firelight behind them cast them both in shadow, but Petra’s eyes had always been better than most. Wolf may have been in her blood, but so were the animals she shared the shapes of. Her mother’s tanned and scarred skin paled as it flattened against the glass, nipples made thick from breastfeeding her only child years ago standing out in stark relief against the pressed skin. Copper-red hair fell in easy swirls, darkened and curled by sweat, lending a softer appearance to a woman made feral and hard long before her child had been born. 

Most would have looked away, sensing the intimacy in every rocking motion, the pale pads of skin fading to dark again only to be pressed once more, her body finally framed by the large and too-animal hands of the husband and father of the family. The scratched glass gained more scars as Orasia was pressed violently against the material a final time, her howl of pleasure piercing through the thickly built window, finally falling back into the grasp of her mate. If she knew Petra was watching, she never made a sign of it, nor was the young woman aware of the quick glance taken by her father in her direction.

Drugging their meal had been a low tactic, and she knew that she would find them quickly passing out by the time she made it into the house. Their quiet murmurs of affection swiftly dwindled, and by the time Petra pushed open their door, they had both fallen into the easy breathing of deep sleep. Petra felt no shame for looking at them, viewing their sweat-beaded skin, flushed with the exertion they had no doubt spent hour since dinner building into. Lorcan cradled his wife, his front against her back, her long leg lifted over one of his own to let him remain within her as long as his own body would allow.

The shame came after she pulled the sheet up and over them both, tucking them in as lovingly as they had done a hundred thousand times before to her. With every movement she made, she felt herself wage a war against the idea of freedom, and the pain of knowing she was betraying those dearest to her. Not one to cry, Petra stopped and sat beside her father when she could no longer hold back the tears, and allowed her to mourn the passing of what little innocence she had held on to.

“I’m sorry.” She saw their ears twitch, and knew that they would both hear her, even beneath the powerful drug she had given them both. “I want you both to understand that I’m sorry. I wanted to ask, I know that I should have asked, but I couldn’t bear that either of you would tell me that I couldn’t. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to explain myself, I still can’t find the right way to tell you that I need to do this.” She leaned close, laying her head on her father’s shoulder, letting tears stain the sheet.

“I’ve spent years listening to her, dreaming of her. We tried pretending that she was only an imaginary friend, but she’s as real to me as both of you are. As Nyx is. The more I try to pretend I’m too old to listen to her, she tells me something else. I tell her about you, about both of you, and I feel her joy. But I feel her fear, too. I can’t ignore her anymore, Papa. I need to go back there, back to where your nightmares started. I need to do this, and make those nightmares my own.” Her fingers clutched at the cloth, and she whimpered.

“I’m terrified, Papa. But there is someone going back, and if I’m going to be safe, I need to go with him. He needs me as much as I need him, I know it. I’ll be good. Nyx will make sure of it.” Twisting up onto her knees on the bed, she pressed a kiss to her father’s temple and bent further, doing the same for her mother. “One way or another, I’ll come back and accept my punishment. I’ll stay locked in my room for years, if that’s what you want. No matter what, I swear I’m coming back.” 

Weeks of planning threatened to come crashing down by her own hand, the grunt of her father slicing straight to her core. Her very mind screamed that it was all wrong, that she needed to go back to her room and forget about what she had been thinking of doing. Before she could consider it further, before she could betray herself, she scuttled from the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand and withdrew an old green pouch, tucking it into her vest. With one more look back, she fled the room, not even caring to close the door behind her.

By the time she made it back out into the yard, she had to breathe past the lump in her throat. Nyx called for her attention, his rough growling purr taking her mind off the pain, his bushy tail flicking from between the plants she had hidden all her supplies in earlier. Pushing the rose branches apart, she took up the packed bag and sheathed two-hander, holding it awkwardly until finally managing to get it all secured to her back.

Petra tossed one more apple into the mare’s stall before taking on Nyx’s weight, the cat perching on her shoulder as if he were a bird as her body changed, and she took flight again. Nyx found himself a comfortable place where he would not be knocked free, and settled himself in for the ride. Petra knew he’d never fall, but she was careful not to jar him too much as the thermals took her body higher and higher, past the realm of dragons and into the few clouds that hung over the forest.

By the time the Gate was near enough to be seen, Petra and Nyx were both cold. Dropping from the chill upper air into warmth was a shock, but one that they both relished as the light from the bonfires and torches that lit the area hit their fur and feathers. She swept in circles, lowering slowly until she found just what she was looking for; the crimson hair of the Knight that was her quarry. 

He was not far from the Gate, a device that was built much like the Ethereal gates from Draenor. Petra knew very little of them, both the race and the Gate, but she had never asked much more than she needed to know - that the energy had no poor effect on the flora and fauna nearby, and had no reason to be restricted. This Gate was not the only one, but it was the nearest to the Academy. Following him to it had been a guess, one that clearly was not too far off.

Her approach was noted by Marric’s companion; an impressive specimen of gryphon built not for strength in combat, but stamina in flight. The midnight black pelt and feathers glittered blue in the moonlight, and it offered a friendly chirrup in her direction, discarding any element of surprise that she might have wanted to keep. The Knight turned, his hand already on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, and he didn’t ease when she landed, caught momentarily between girl and bird until her feet touched ground and the last of the feathers vanished.

“I didn’t think I had forgotten anything. Were there last moment notes that I needed to be reminded of?”  
“Wha - …” Petra’s brows furrowed a moment, her arms curling around Nyx as the chilled cat moved to them in an effort to warm itself. She spat fur from her mouth as the oversized lap-cat swatted her face with his tail, but shook her head. “No. Nothing was forgotten, not on Xaedryx’s end. You’ve known her longer than I - she’s known for not forgetting much, if anything. No… I’m…” It was harder to say, harder to confirm with the damning words, and she spat them out as fast as she could. “I’m going with you.”

She was grateful that he didn’t laugh, though his face took on the look of one who had heard that too many times, and had perfected his own method of ignoring the speaker. When he turned away, she skittered closer, a hand moving to touch on his chest as she swept around him. 

“Please, just listen to me for a moment. I could have just snuck on with you as something small and barely noticeable until it was too late, but I need to take Nyx and I can’t change him. On top of that,” she flattened her hand on his chest to keep him from moving, showing a surprising amount of strength, “I’ve already hit below the belt with my parents, so to speak. I can’t hide my intentions, and I can’t just force you to deal with me because I snuck myself in. My parents raised me well, with good morals.”

“This isn’t a field trip, kid.” His hand lifted to swipe her own away from his chest, but he found her harder to dislodge than he anticipated. “I can’t be babysitting you. What I’m doing is important, too important to make it into a game.”

“I can take care of myself. You won’t be babysitting. I just need to tag along until a certain point.”

“Tsk.” He managed to move her hand, carefully pulling her away from the gate and behind him. “Then walk through on your own, and do what you need on your own.”

“I can’t.” The tone of fear stopped him, and she cast a longing glance at the Gate. “I could, sure. Anyone can go through… but that’s not my world. My parents were born there, but I was born here and I know nothing but what they’ve told me. All of which has been about a world that is fifty years or more in the past. You’ve been there, you’ve watched it change. If I went on my own, I’d be lost and alone, and I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” He was turning away again, mentally and physically starting to ignore her, and she reached for the only card she knew that would convince him.

“Fight me.” She almost laughed at the look of incredulous disbelief he gained, but she pushed the point. “I’m just a kid in your eyes, right? Give me a chance. If you lay me out flat, I’ll turn tail and go back home. If I stand my ground against you, or I win? I get to go with you.” She unshouldered her pack and the blade, letting Nyx settle on top of them. “It won’t take you more than a few seconds, right? I’m just a girl.”

Her body spasmed, the form of her birthright making her go from average and toned to lethal and lithe. He was used to worgen, but to watch her go from one shape to another was still offsetting; the crack and pop of bones never came across as comfortable, not even to those who endured that change. When he went to drop his blade, she shook her head.

“Keep it. My fur is thicker than it looks, and I trust that you know how to use it. You won’t kill me, I won’t kill you.” 

“Fine.” 

She was toying with him. There was no way he could know her parentage, let alone what each of them did. Orasia had taken a backseat in training only when Petra’s abilities had proven to bend towards nature, letting her husband take over in what he had learned and excelled at. That had taken years to come to fruition, and while Petra had gone above and beyond the call of many druids in her meager lifetime, Orasia had trained her child as ruthlessly as she could from the moment she could hold a weapon. Even after Lorcan had taken over, Petra had accepted training in staves and with no weapons at all… her mother had believed that she could always benefit, just in case.

Two minutes in, she could tell he wasn’t taking her seriously. Either he worried about hurting her, which was a logical trail for his mind to make, as his own experience was far beyond that of hers or even her mother’s, or he was hoping to wear her down and prove she didn’t have the stamina to keep up. When she lunged at him, he backed up. No matter how often she attacked, he refused to return her lunge with one of her own. While frustration never made it into her mind, she didn’t want her parents walking up to the Gate to stop her. Petra sprang at Marric one last time, forcing him to bring his sword up to bear, and her jaws closed on it.

He released a yelp, a shout in hopes that she’d stop before the lethal metal cut through her teeth and mouth, but the sound was silenced as quickly as it had started, Petra spitting out metal quickly breaking into dust in her mouth. She knew, when she let her body fall back to the innocent looking human, that he would not attack. The blade was falling to pieces, and she saw worry and pain in his eyes, a sadness that could only be the result of an intense loss. She willed her voice to be gentle, knowing that the bite of practical sense was not wanted or needed at the moment.

“You would have found that out sooner if you had been practicing like the others.” She tried not to make the childish wipe of her hand over her tongue too obvious, but there was little she could do to bring him out of his haze. “Knights take power from their blades, don’t they? There’s a reason we don’t have any of them, or didn’t you notice?” 

“No. I didn’t… think about it.”

“To be fair, you didn’t have a reason to.” Her tone was gentle, and she reached out to take the dissolving hilt from him, but he jerked his hand away, the remaining metal becoming dust. “Mama and Papa both said that there were Knights who came through with the others. They were okay, for the first few days. Then the blades began to break, and the control they had over themselves…” She frowned. “The last one held out until I was three. What was left of her was barely human. She was kept chained for her own safety, her body was… eating itself from the inside out. Her mind was gone. Mama said that we should have helped her die a long time before that, but Papa…

“Papa said that it was so hard for us to let people go. We tried everything to save them. Every source of magic we still had, we tried. But the magic that lives here? It had already begun to take them apart, and nothing we had or even have now could have saved them. But they weren’t like you. They weren’t alive. You’ll go mad long before you find all of the dragons, but I can help you. You’ll get way worse before you get better, but I have this feeling in my gut that tells me that you need me. That something I can do will help you at the end, even if I don’t know what it is right this second. But I need to go there, first.

“I know it hurts. The ones we lost were dead, and they said that it hurt more than their rebirth. There was nothing like the pain they felt, and we couldn’t do anything to help them. The small amount of peace I can give you is that whoever was in that blade? They were released the moment you passed through the portal and came here. There was no pain for them, whoever they were. Now they get to rest, and you get to move on.” His silence was becoming annoying. “I’ll give you two good reasons why you’re going to take me with you.”

“What are they?” He watched her move back to her pile, picking up the blade and handing it over to him. 

“For the first? I can help you. It might take me a little to figure out how, but I know I can. And even at your worst, I can handle anything you think you could bring at me. I can become anything, and you might be able to tear a man to pieces in a frenzy, but the animals here are larger, and more than a little adapted to harsh environments. You would be a flea on the hide of some of the greatest; annoying, but painless even at your worst.”

“And your second?” He reached out a hand, stopping her from walking past him with her things slung over her shoulder. This time, it was she who was too hesitant, and she mulled her words over for a considerable time before looking him straight in the eyes, her voice low.

“I know who you see, at night. Out of the corner of your eye, or when your eyes are closed. I know you see her, too.”

His remaining resolve, if there had been anything left, vanished. Hefting the sword she had given him, surprised at how easily it fit into his hand, he motioned for her to go first. The cat vaulted to her shoulder, watching him suspiciously as his mistress passed through the Gate. Casting a quick glance back, Marric sighed, and followed.


	3. Chapter Three

The Gates were not a perfect tool. A mix of technology, they were designed to never send someone in the same path twice. There was no way to determine the path before walking through, only that the thousands of possible paths led to one world and not empty space, or an inhospitable planet never before touched. Nalorn and Azeroth were connected by tens of thousands of these paths, with each one closed behind the traveler. The smartest that the Gate could manage was not putting the user into a harmful position, such as in a wall. Not that it hadn’t been considered an apt and quick mode of punishment.

The temperate climate of Nalorn faded into darkness, the pleasant weather twisting into a bone-chilling cold that spread to the skin quite quickly, especially so for the newcomers. Expecting a surface beneath her feet, Petra was the first to be dropped unceremoniously a good fifteen feet into darkness, her brief yelp of shock dampened quite literally by her landing into liquid that quickly drenched her clothes and sought to ooze itself into her orifices with something bordering unseemly force.

Marric’s fortune was no less poor, her yelp of warning coming far too late for him to do much more than join her in the unknown substance, though he collected himself far faster, his boots touching the bottom with ease to leave him a considerable amount of open air to breathe. Flecks of viscous liquid peppered him as his companion floundered and grumbled, the unhappy growl of her cat heard last as the beast dropped from above Marric’s head, claws catching into his shoulder to hoist itself back up into safety.

“Ow... well, this figures.” Marric grumbled as a cat tore up his shoulder as if the world was falling out from under it, finally coming to rest atop his head as a hissing ball of outstretched fur. Thankfully his training had caused him to keep a firm grip of his sword on the fall down. Lifting the blade out of whatever they were standing in, he wiped it across the sleeve of his leathers before carefully fastening it to his back. 

Once his weapon was secure he gathered his bearings. Whatever they had fallen into it was clearly thicker than water, but not so much so as to be quicksand. Also he was touching bottom, so the ground was at least for the moment, stable. His gloved hands carefully glided over the top layer to test the motion of it… and it struck him as oddly familiar.

While he considered the surroundings in quiet reflection, Petra flopped and scrabbled for purchase with as much grace as a freshly caught fish. There was another yelp, this one of pain, as her hand connected harshly with a stair, and she pulled herself up onto it and then further, letting the thick liquid drip from her to hit firm ground beneath her feet.

“This is disgusting,” she managed, spitting out globs that had managed to eke their way into her mouth in her struggle, wiping her tongue with her hands and nearly retching in the darkness. “This is so, so gross. I feel violated. I seriously feel like that… that stuff was trying to climb it’s way into my ass. Oh, gross.” Her complaints were muffled, the jingle of her clothing heard as she hopped and jumped, smacking her clothes to dislodge the stuff. From his shoulder, the cat mrow’d it’s own form of agreement, the thick and fluffy tail flipping into Marric’s face in irritation.

“Well, look on the bright side. At least it wasn’t something completely solid. That would have been much more painful. So I’ve heard anyway.” He paid the tail in his face no mind, only giving a soft word of comfort to the distressed animal as he shuffled his feet towards the sound of Petra, carefully navigating the steps. “I wonder. I never returned after it was destroyed.” He slowly knelt down at the liquids edge, carefully scooping a handful to smell the contents, hoping it would jog his memory.

“Gross, gross, gross…” Petra’s mantra trailed off as she danced from one foot to the other. In the darkness, the audible pop and snap of her bones rearranging themselves stopped with an inhuman sound, her disgust even more audible when she spoke again. “It smells like ass. Like everyone at the school came and took an enormous shit after drinking heavily for three days. I can’t bear it in true-form. It makes my eyes water.” Her complaints quieted, but only just.

“Oh, yuck. It’s even managed to get into my pack. I hope you aren’t going to be hungry for a while… I don’t think it’s palatable anymore.” The girl tossed something aside, the thump of sodden food as discernable to anyone else in the darkness as it would have been if she’d dropped an old boot to the wayside. “I have something… hang on… ah!” From her place, ten feet from her companion, a soft glow started in her fingertips, the ball illuminating the surroundings at a comfortable level. “Better?”

“First, ass doesn’t smell like this. Either I’ve been quite fortunate or you have not. Second, I don’t ever want to hear about your school’s collective bowel movements.” He had just been overturning his hand when the small orb illuminated the surrounding area. The bright green liquid seemed to glow in response to the new light source as it dripped from his glove. “Yup. Just what I thought...The Undercity.”

“Dead ass, then.” Her hand lifted, sending light flickering over vaulted arches and old stone long since forgotten. “I’ve had my hand up the backsides of more animals than I can count. None of them smelled this bad.” The light bobbed as she moved away, behind a pillar and out of his line of sight. “It’s an old city, isn’t it? Horde…”

“It’s a long history. Was a human city, ended up the city of the damned, in a way. The Forsaken kept a hold of it until they were driven to - well, there’s none of them left.” Marric flicked his hand, scattering the last of the liquid from his glove. His ears twitched, following Petra’s footsteps until they became too distant for his comfort. “It’s best you stay with me. We’re in the underbelly of a city in ruin, and this particular area was closed off when humans took back the upper city. We’re likely the first ones in here in fifty years or more.”

“They just… left everything in here?” Her tone made his brow raise, and he heard the shuffle of her removing something and blowing dust from whatever it might be. A casual glance showed her holding a book. “All of these books, and supplies. Everything was just left here to rot…” She winced as a decrepit page crumbled in her hand, and looked to him. “Were they so disliked that their knowledge was considered less than that of anyone else’s?”

“It was difficult, then. It still is. Imagine,” he reached to take the book, ignoring the mindless scribbling as he set it back on the table, “that you parents died, and were raised again. They rot, every day just a little more than the last. In their eyes, you see that they feel nothing but the cold, taste nothing but their decomposing flesh. All that they enjoyed is now out of their reach - they could not even touch you without you having your skin crawl.”

“Please, stop…”

“That was the Forsaken. They lived like that, until their minds went away and they were given the solace of death at last. They were walking shame, a horrible truth to anyone still living that death was never the end.”

“So they were shut away.”

“From themselves, from others, from the world. They lived here, in this gloom and darkness because it is the only place that would have them. No mirrors, no light, no joy. But they were clever, and incredibly dangerous. No one would deny that…”

“These books still should have been kept.” Petra pulled another from a shelf, and tucked it into her bag without looking through it. Two more were managed before he felt the need to stop her. “It’s still history. Even if no one wants to admit it, or look at it, or even think about it… they were people, once. I would never close my parents and their knowledge away, no matter if they were walking corpses. They were still my parents. I still needed them. To the very end and past, they would have been people.”

“You’re a kinder heart than most. In any of the wars we’ve fought, you’d have been one of the first to die.” He took the last book from her and set it gently back on the shelf again. “We aren’t here to collect history. We’re here to find dragons, and then get out of here. Well, you’ll get out of here. Rather, you’ll be going back there.”

“You won’t be?” She tailed after him as he started to move, his hand drifting towards the hilt of the sword in idle instinct. “You have a child. Rumor has it you’re even related to the Headmistress.”

“Through… a bond, not blood. Kas’viri would have been considered my niece if I had ever married her aunt, but we never got to that point.” He paused, motioning for her light. In his hand, it flickered, and she took it back quickly. “It was enough to have affection, we didn’t need more than that. As for my son… he’s been raised well. There’s nothing I could give him that he doesn’t already have.”

“Are you saying that because you’re in pain, or because you’ve given up?” He shrugged at her question. “I would think that seeing your son after all these years would make you want to be a part of their life.” She paused, peering back at where they had emerged from the slime, now simply a fading ripple of light just outside the light she held.

“I don’t belong.”

Petra didn’t have a response. In a way, she understood what he meant; even years down the line, there were people who looked at her oddly, usually those who couldn’t shift. Even her own parents had been concerned when her ability to take the shape of other animals came just before her first change. It was hard for them, one born with the change in his blood, the other turned in Gilneas itself, to see her go through the pain…

… and laugh. Her “true form” had just been another shape, by that time. It was the only shape that truly hurt her, that truly hurt any of those who had been cursed, but there was a freedom in it. Something that no one else could understand. On Azeroth, she would have been a Druid of significant skill, but on the new world… on the new world, she was whatever she wanted to be. A dopey apprentice, a fearsome fighter, an eagle on the wing. She didn’t belong.

“So, do you think there’s any food down here?” She grinned as he looked back at her, a shrug offered in silent note of the change of topic. They didn’t bother to remain quiet - Marric knew that there was nothing remaining besides a few rats that managed to scrounge a life out on the remaining roaches. Only Nyx bothered to keep his eyes behind them, though the feline couldn’t have seen the tendril of slime just around the corner, reaching out from the sludge to curl around the disposed sandwich and drag it back in.

A few hours later, they decided to rest. What had once been the bank now had a large hole gaping from it, and the shelter made for a decent place to sit and sleep without having to worry about the damp chill that permeated the lower city. With no reason to post watch, both seemed content to doze in a half-slumber. Marric sat with his hands on his sword while Petra sprawled along the floor, her back against the wall with her cat on her hip. 

Nyx never slept, not if he could help it. Life with Petra had made him fat and lazy, and he was prone to being much more lazy than he had ever been on Azeroth. Back on the planet, old habits had begun to fall into place, and he found himself more wary than before. While his mistress and her companion slept, he cast lamplight eyes around with ears twitching to catch every sound that he could.

Except that there were none. That rang odd in his mind, old instincts rising up strong and healthy, dusted off after fifty years of complacency. His weight shifted, rousing Petra just enough to send a half-lidded look at him before she was dozing again. Something was wrong. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, though it beat at his muddled senses.

“Nyxmerus.”

The voice spooked him, whispered just inside his range of hearing from a corner that was far darker than the rest of the surrounding area. 

“Wake them. Run.”

The warning made no sense, though the urgency of it made the long hair on his body stand on end. Padding quietly out of the sheltered bank, he was halfway across the nearest unbroken bridge before he heard the sound behind him. Petra stood just outside the room, rubbing her eyes and murmuring his name. Complacent once more, decades of teaching running through his mind, he was nearly back to her when he saw the glint in the dark. His yowl of warning was drowned out by Petra’s scream.

“Petra!” Marric reached for the girl, his hand tearing through the goo that had encircled her waist, getting just close enough for her to grab his arm and pull herself forcefully. He braced, and she powered through the resistance to slam into him, knocking them both back into the room.

“Hurts. It squeezed hard,” she gasped, gathering Nyx into her arms as she caught her breath, while Marric lofted his sword. “You don’t have the room. We need to get out of here. Which direction?”

“I don’t… remember.” He frowned at her sound of disbelief, a moment of confusion flashing fast across his features. When Nyx squirmed free of Petra’s arms and dropped, she motioned for them to follow him, and they bolted from the room in time to avoid being slammed into rubble as the bank collapsed beneath the weight of a heavy tendril.

Nyxmerus didn’t stop, tearing across one bridge and up into a hallway that once opened into an elevator. In the dark, both of his companions hit the wall before Marric realized where they were.

“They don’t work anymore. They haven’t for years.” He turned, holding the sword up between him and the sludge now taking form at the far end of the hall. “The bats got in around the outer ring. There’s another entrance in the sewers… it may not be wholly blocked off. It’s our only chance. Stay behind m… - whoa!”

The hall had become quite tight suddenly, Petra releasing a painful sound as her body shifted and tore skin into another shape. Marric backed against the wall as the massive ironhide wolf filled the corridor, lethal fangs nearly as long as his arm sprouting from a muzzle that made the most savage of riding sabers look like a tame kitten in comparison. Petra didn’t wait, her form only just settled before she bolted at the oncoming sludge, the iron spines along her guard fur rising.

They cut through the ooze on impact, sending it reeling in a spray of gel that wiggled and shivered. Marric needed no coaxing to follow after her, though her large size made navigating the twists and turns of the abandoned town daunting. The bridges shuddered under her weight to the point where she chose instead to leap from one platform to the next until settling at the entrance to the outer ring. Marric gave her a dubious look as she crouched, clearly requesting for him to mount, and pulled himself up gingerly.

She didn’t move until Nyx settled just in front of him, and then they were off. Marric ducked as the ooze threw out tendrils, slamming around his head to splinter old stone down around their bodies. When she paused, looking back at him, he took a spine in hand and hissed pain as blood came quickly from the shallow wound. Her glance was sympathetic, and she allowed him a moment to find better purchase before they were bounding off again, feet of stone passing beneath her paws with ease.

“Over the ooze,” he shouted, bracing as her traction shuddered and she skid over stones to correct herself. The ooze struck again, flowing like a landslide through the channel it had called home for years upon years, catching them both and sweeping them into it’s depths. Marric clamped his mouth shut tight and prayed it wouldn’t get any other ideas while Petra scrambled free of the sludge, her spined hide ripping a path through the gelatin to get them to the opposite side. Dragging her bulk up the stairs was hard, and Marric found himself dumped off her back to roll away from the lethal coat of his companion.

“Nyx!” Her voice rang out, the shape that she wore gone to leave only the mussed form of the young girl. “Nyx!” In the silence, they heard nothing but their own ragged breathing, and she snapped dangerously at him as he tried to pull her away from the channel.

“He’s just a cat, Petra.” He flinched under her glare, her eyes flashing a hazy green that seemed to light her face beneath the fringe of loose wine-red hair.

“He’s not just a cat, Marric. He’s my best friend. I’m not leaving him here. I wouldn’t leave you here, why would you think I’d do the same to him?” She shoved her bag at him and made for the channel, caught again by Marric’s hand.

“That stuff could hurt you. Vines, lightning. Don’t you have anything else that could help?”

For the first time in a long time, Petra found herself the little girl staring wistfully out the window of a stone tower. The choking feeling of failure came washing back, and she could still hear the plaintive words of her parents as they spoke to the Headmistress about their child.

“Stone blocks that sort of thing from me. I can change shape easily enough no matter where I am, that magic is inside me. A part of me. The other druidic stuff? Sure, I know it. I’m pretty damned good at it, too. Best of my class… as long as I’m outside. There’s too much death and corruption here, too much stone.” She took her arm back, refusing to meet his eyes. “Find the hole we need. I’ll find Nyx, then come for you.”

She didn’t give him much of a chance to decline her order, if that’s what either of them considered it to be. As if sensing her need to cool, he merely nodded and moved away from her, fading into the dark. Petra roamed the now silent channel, her chest tight with fear and concern. Nothing moved, the only sound that of her own breathing and her steady footfalls. 

“Nyx?” A whimper touched her voice, and she paused to rub her arms. “Come on, boy. I’m not leaving without you.” She swallowed back the tears that threatened, chasing them away before they could push free and turn her back into the little, frightened, lonely girl that she had been before the cat had become her friend. “Nyx?”

Nothing.

Nothing but the sound of something sucking, moving nearer and nearer to her. With a cry, she ducked aside as a wall of ooze fell upon her, seeking to stifle her beneath the gelatinous mass of it’s body. She hit a wall hard, the breath knocked from her, and took off back down the halls towards Marric. It was as she sped past a pile of stoned glazed with slime that she saw the crumpled form of her cat, barely breathing. 

Anger. Petra knew anger before she knew that worry and sadness had even come to play. Her hand snapped out, catching on old stone to pull her to a stop, and she turned to face the oncoming enemy with a growl. The beast that took her body was no wolf, nor bear. It was large, with a hide that was thick and covered with dark fur that smoldered. The fire manticore was lethal and rare - Petra had seen only one of the lion-like creatures, and it had been in the company of Neyila. Wounded and afraid, it had taken both of them to tend to the massive beast whose bite was like fire that burned as magma beneath the skin.

Feline in the fore, but scorpion-like in the back, the fire manticore had one more feature that made it perfect for this moment. A pair of large fur and leather wings that were perfect for coaxing the flames the manticore was capable of spewing towards an enemy, or more than a host of enemies. Where this breed of manticore walked, forests burned. Petra reared, allowing the primal rage to fuel her fire before it was released at the sludge. The ooze lit easier than a wick doused in oil, setting the channel alight with a fire that burned brighter than any torch.

With the ooze sufficiently distracted, she gently took her cat in her jaws, careful not to cut his pelt on her massive fangs. Without thought, she sped away from the bulk of the burning mass, chasing rivulets of colored flame down the channel’s edge until she could see Marric staring, then bracing for an attack with his hand on his sword. When she neared him, she changed, easily catching Nyx in her arms as manticore became a weary woman. 

“Up there.”

Petra glanced up, then handed Nyx to Marric. She didn’t need to tell him to be careful. He held the ragged animal like he would a newborn, not wishing to bring her wrath down on him again. When she changed again, her shape was simple. An eagle, almost too large to fit in the hall itself. She closed a talon around them and spread her wings, fanning the flames of their would-be enemy and spraying walls with flaming material as she lifted off, finding the hole without much effort.

Too large to fit herself, she gently tossed them to the ground and changed, catching Marric’s hand mid-drop to pull herself back up. Without words, they fled the tunnel length to the exit, stopped only by a large boulder that had eroded just enough for them to wiggle free and fall, gasping and grateful for fresh air, onto land outside of the plagued city.


	4. Chapter Four

Silverpine had never been so resplendent. As corrupt as the Undercity had been, it had been nothing compared to the quiet and haunting beauty of the woods that surrounded it. Old scars from wars both recent and old still touched the land, but the forest had grown in thicker since anyone had last stepped through the area. There was a wild beauty, captured flawlessly, and neither of them particularly wished to disturb it. Where there had once been barren patches of land, trees had sprung up and twisted into a canopy that drowned out all but the strongest light. The animals that were once sick and corrupted, raised to live in a forest as tainted as they, no longer walked.

Though she hid it well, Petra’s first steps outside of stone made her knees buckle and her eyes well up with tears. Though the land was healing slowly, the pain that it felt among the threads of nature was enough to drive her mad if she allowed herself to be swept into the current. Walking only served to make it worse, with every step making her feel as though she was tearing herself apart halfway, only to be relieved when both feet were firm, and then torn anew.

They didn’t make it far, her lagging steps finally bringing Marric to the assumption that she was tired, and needed rest. Though it wasn’t an assumption that was too far off, it was several hours more before she would finally collapse onto the bed of leaves that they had fashioned, Nyxmerus curled tightly against her side in his own healing sleep. Marric kept silent watch, his eyes flicking around the small glen they had found while his skin itched. 

Every sound was new. Northrend had been quiet in comparison to this, the songbirds and insects flitting about even in the dead of night somehow a thousand times louder than he felt they should be. The light that filtered through the canopy struggled to stay bright as the beasts of the canopy flitted from one branch to the other, each breaking twig setting him alight all over again. Hours passed like this, until he felt Petra’s hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you expect something to come out of the trees,” she murmured, pulling herself over the log to sit beside him at the fire.

“Old habits die hard.” He motioned away from them, through the trees and back towards the abandoned city. “I was there when she was killed. A good number of those you grew up with were present, now that I think about it. It didn’t look like this, then. Can’t swing a sword without hitting a tree, now.” His brow quirked at her frown.

“These are old trees, Marric. I mean, they look old. Hundreds of years old, even. If I close my eyes and just listen, they chatter like young girls. They’re loud. This whole place is.” 

“You druids are something else,” he chuckled, waving away her hurt look. “We had a few of them in the Caravan I worked, and they were always talking about how the land felt wrong. Didn’t seem to like us much, really didn’t like one of the other druids. Come to think of it, they didn’t care very much for the whole tainted pack.”

“Pack?” Her head tilted, and his heart stopped beating for a moment as he envisioned another young girl, long since dead, in her place.

“There was a tainted savagekin. Kas - …. the Headmistress’ older half-sister, if I recall right. Which, I do. With her came a savagekin cub, but she didn’t make it through the portal. Mate didn’t even make it past the Cataclysm, though that fact might be wrong. When the worgen became members of the Alliance, we gained a few of them among the elves. Some were touched with darker dreams, but there was one that held them in check.”

“Her.”

“Yeah.” He looked at her, his own head tilted. “How long?”

“Years. I think I first dreamed her when I was just able to remember that I had dreamed her, so maybe she was there before. She was a bit like an imaginary friend while I grew up, you know? Eventually, though…” The girl shifted slightly, rubbing her neck.

“Started seeing her when you were awake?”

“Exactly. I never felt threatened in the least. Never felt like she was a shade or something I should be begging the faiths to take care of. She was just watching, for all of those years. Like she was just waiting to see what I would do if given a chance. See what I was capable of.” She licked her lips, twirling the white lock of hair amidst her wine-dark tresses around a finger.

“Something tells me you were capable of a great deal more than anyone imagined.” He tried for comfort, a small smirk touching his lips.

“When you’re young, the Academy takes the general route with learning. You learn the theories, the stuff you can put on paper. All demonstrations are held inside the class, inside five foot thick stone walls and floor, all warded. For several years, I thought I was blocked from what should have been in my blood.” Her eyes searched him as she spoke, and she mused quietly before continuing.

“When I was twelve, I ran away from home. I didn’t want to be a burden. I thought for sure that I should just vanish, give my parents a chance to have another child that would be what they expected.” Petra looked away, to the canopy. “I don’t even know where I was when I saw her. I turned a corner, and there she was, seated on a rock with these eyes,” she struggled to explain, and fell short, “just glowing and glistening in the dark, fixed on me. It was the first time she’d appeared to me and looked like she wanted to touch.

“She wanted to hold me, Marric. Like my mother or father might. She had this aching sadness in her eyes, like she knew just how much I had struggled, knew just how bad I felt. This figment of my imagination, my dirty little secret, wanted to comfort me. When she spoke, her voice was like a lullaby. Soothing and kind, full of promise and trust. She told me…” She paused, and looked at him again. “She told me that I could do anything, just not in stone. I was a child tied to the ebb and flow, and my weakness was what I had been encased in all my life.

“She took me to a glade that had died. I remember how cold it was, how crisp the air was as I breathed in. It was the cusp of winter, we were just starting to see the fall pass behind, the harvests done. She stood in the middle of this dead place, this woman in green and copper, and she told me to stand with her. When I did, she taught me how to see the threads of life around me. I struggled. For three days, I tried so hard, and then it clicked. The moment I thought I’d fail, it was like the world exploded into my eyes.

“I could close my eyes, and see… everything. At first, it was only a few feet. After a week, she had me seeing a mile. Two weeks, and I could see clear to the first portal. These threads of green and gold, each one connected to a living creature. I learned how to tell human from animal, and eventually… I learned how to find one thread I needed among so many others. I could see trees and people fading and dying, new threads twisting into life at the birth of a babe, at the turn of the season into spring.

“She was so patient, this figment of mine. By the time spring came, though the winter was the harshest we’d had, I made that glade grow again. She assured me that it had died, that I had reached deep into the earth and myself and nurtured the seeds of life that couldn’t find their path on their own, and I made that area into my own. I felt something beautiful under her gaze, I felt like she was proud of me, like I had made her happy beyond belief. I told her that I wanted to go home, and she told me that I could. That I always could have, I just needed to know that I could do it. Before I left, she gave me Nyx. Just… summoned him out of the bushes. He was a little more wild than he is now; he’s gotten lazy… and she taught me to fly.”

“I’m going to assume you mean that literally.” He leaned forward, prodding the fire that seemed to give too little warmth in such a cool place. One long ear, scarred from old battles, twitched as some form of owl called out across the trees.

“Yup.” She grinned. “It was like nothing else I’d imagined. It wasn’t even painful. It took a little for me to steady myself, but you should have seen the look on my parent’s faces when I appeared again. The only one who wasn’t surprised was the Headmistress. If anything, she looked relieved.” Petra shrugged, and smiled at him. “I guess she thought I’d be useless.”

“You’re hardly that. We wouldn’t have been able to get out if it weren’t for you.”

“Pft. You’d have climbed.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged and looked out towards the woods. “When was your first change?”

“Few weeks before I turned eighteen. Pa said that was a little early, apparently he and his sister didn’t wolf out until they were nearly nineteen.” Her spark sobered, and she chewed her lip. “That’s the one that hurts.”

“So I’ve heard. Is that why you skip it, when you change?”

“Skip? Oh! No, I don’t need to. I’ve never needed to change… there are some who don’t consider me a true worgen because of that, but that’s what I am. Gilnean in blood, worgen to my core. I don’t think I could shift half as well without it.” Pursing her lips, she swayed against him. “Enough about me.”

“There’s nothing to know about me.” His sudden wall made her blink, and she prodded his shoulder.

“You’re the last of the Knights, you’re remaining sane, and you’ve lived through the wars. I think there’s plenty to you that you just don’t want to share.” Her prodding made him sigh, but he relented.

“There isn’t more than you already know, really. Some things are better left forgotten. In regards to her, though… I’ve seen her for a while. Familiar, lingering just outside my view. In shadows, mostly. I never hear her speak, I just remember the eyes.” At her unsatisfied pout, he reached out and ruffled her dirty hair. “Sorry, kid.”

“Fair enough, I guess. I’ll find a way to get more out of you, since we’ll have the time.” She pursed her lips again, and peered up at him. “Where do we go from here? This is your world, not mine.”

“That much, I don’t know.” He motioned to the woods around them. “Fifty years isn’t enough to bring all this to life. The fact that is is here puts me on edge. I’d feel more comfortable away from here. As far away as we can get, truly. I’m searching for beings that have been gone a long time, Petra. I don’t know where to start.”

“What’s that way?” She gestured west, her head tilted. 

“Silverpine. Gilneas. If the trees weren’t here, you’d be able to see the dome, though it would look more like a giant mountain. The old plaguelands are to the east, but there’s nothing past that any longer. Whatever my kin did to save Silvermoon has all but destroyed the land around the city. It’s a shame. I think you’d like the city.” His smile was sad.

“Then it makes sense that we go south, not north. Could we… visit Gilneas?” Her hopeful look nearly made his heart stop. He hated the way he sounded.

“Petra, that city is gone. Anything that gets near those trees is killed. I’ve lost good men and women to that dome - …”

“I know, but… but that’s home, you know? It’s where it all started for me. For my family. Since we’re going to pass by it anyway, would it be so much to just let me touch the trees?”

“I’m more worried about the trees touching you.” His eyes narrowed. “You expended a great deal of energy in healing your companion. I would feel better if we avoided anything that would wear you out further.”

“That’s… not really possible.” She chewed her lip, and glanced into the trees to the west. “Nyx walked off that way. He’s far enough off that his thread is tangled in the trees, and he’s still moving. I’d… really rather not leave him alone. I might be tired, but he’s weak. I can still handle the average attack, but if something saw him as prey, there’s no way he’d be able to fight it off.”

“This… didn’t strike you as something to tell me earlier?”

“I thought he wandered off to pee! Do you like it when someone follows you when you try to do your business? I know I don’t.”

“He’s a cat.”

“Yes, but… but he’s more than that. With Nyx next to me, I feel like I’m protected. Like I’m safe. Like her influence is always just right there, even though I haven’t heard her in a while, you know?”

“I had a saber, once. One of the elven ones. Was a horrible smartass, but she took care of me. I know the feeling.” He groaned and stood, bones popping as he stretched. “Why is it always the cats?” 

“That’s just what they do.” She hopped up, nearly tipping into the fire. “So, Gilneas?”

“Your cat. Just your cat. I’m not that comfortable with…” He sighed as her form shifted, a glossy black saber staring up at him with large eyes. “You aren’t listening to me.”

Several hours later, Nyx had become even more elusive. Traveling went from being difficult, to simply becoming frustrating and even treacherous as they found themselves forced to backtrack through trees, blocked by towering vines too thick to cut through easily, and too stubborn to answer Petra’s request. Marric could tell the girl was becoming angry, though he felt that it was more at the environment than at herself.

“You’re sure we can’t leave him?” He ducked as she turned towards a low hanging tree, attempting to sweep him off her back in silent retribution. He gripped her tighter as she jumped over a small ravine, his mind attempting to place where it had come from; he couldn’t remember the land being split, no matter when or where he thought back to. There was only one place… “Petra,” he leaned forward, kneading her powerful shoulders, “we need to turn back.”

She growled, and paused with him astride her back, her large head turning towards where they came. He followed her glance and groaned. Nothing. There was no path, no light from the treetops, nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked upwards as Petra turned down an available path and paused again. This time, he dismounted, his voice tinged with anger.

“I told you not to come here.” He watched her as her shape shimmered and fell, saw the angry flush on her cheeks.

“I followed Nyx. I didn’t realize I was following a path until about the same moment you did. This wasn’t my plan, I just followed him.” She hushed as a howl went out, her hands covering her mouth as if to stifle the already spent words that echoed far too loud in the trees. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It was a trap, the whole way.” His ears twitched, and he whirled a second too late. Before his eyes, vines whipped out to grab the druid, pulling her into the undergrowth, leaving him with her screams. “Petra!” Cursing under his breath, he tore after her, plunging into the brush in hopes of outrunning and taking down the vines.

“Marric!” Petra watched him, confused beyond reason. Safe and secure where she was, she called after him, bouncing on her toes to see through the foliage that melted back into place behind her companion. “Marric, what are you doing?” Another howl sounded, and she turned her head to look as another path opened up, and at the end of it, just before a turn in the road, sat her cat.

“Nyx!” Marric was forgotten as she trotted down the path, her surprise melting to frustration as the large cat continued to pace just outside of her grasp. “This isn’t funny, you stupid cat. Come on…” She was oblivious to the path closing behind her, only just aware of the sound of Marric moving through the brush, still calling for her.

“Petra!” He nearly fell through the grass, the sudden resistance of brush and trees gone completely. The glade was quiet, a large area dotted by twisted stumps and covered in grass to his waist. Several feet in front of him, a cloaked figure knelt at the very end of the path that had been carved by her body. “Are you alright?” He bent, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath for a few moments. When she didn’t reply, he stood and moved closer, a hand reaching out to touch on her cloaked shoulder.

His eyes widened as the figure turned, her pointer and middle finger gently touching the middle of his forehead. He groaned, resisting for only a fraction of a second before sleep took him, and he crumpled to the floor. Petra burst from the woods as the figure gently set her friend into a better position, a pale green mist creeping along the grass to cover his body, glittering gold where his breath touched it.

Nyx darted forward, disappearing briefly into the voluminous cloak the new figure wore before appearing atop Marric’s chest, where he curled up and allowed the fog to dance around his slowly swishing tail. Petra approached more slowly, her fingers dancing with green light that flickered off the mist. The figured turned towards her, hands lifting to push back the cloak’s hood and reveal a face too familiar to be real. Petra’s voice was soft, tinged with the wonder of a child meeting an idol.

“Hello, grandmother.”


	5. Chapter Five

“Petra.” The woman smiled, her voice as warm as one would expect. It resonated through the area, filling the young druid with the feeling that the older woman was more than what she appeared. “You have grown up since I last spoke with you.” Her hands reached out, and Petra was still while deft fingers toyed with the white lock of hair, her own eyes on the waist-length lock the woman herself bore. “Goodness, it’s like looking into a mirror. Let me look at you.”

“Is he safe?” Petra tipped her head in Marric’s direction, the man sleeping soundly, oblivious to Nyx’s kneading motion on his stomach.

“Yes. I would never seek to harm him, nor you. You are both precious to me, in your own ways.” The woman’s eyes met her own, and she smiled sadly. “There are those who wait for him in the Dream, caught in a web of lies that only he can unravel. Like this, he will feel no pain. No hunger. No anger. He will not deteriorate so quickly, and you and I can speak. I have so much to say, and so little time to say it all.”

The woman moved, and Petra struggled to keep up with her long strides. There was something about the way she walked, where every step seemed to carry her twice as far and nothing lingered in her path to slow her down. For Petra, the simple walk was far more than just that, frequently forcing her to climb over fallen trees and around large stones. The grass around them became clipped, carefully tended, and Petra realized that they had moved from thick woods into a groomed garden filled with roses so deep a shade of red that they seemed black in the dim light.

“How long have you known, grandchild?” There was amusement to her voice, as if the thought of the word was something that surprised and delighted her, and she did not pause until they stood beneath a towering willow whose long tendril-like branches pooled on the ground. 

“That you were more than simply a figment?” Her head tipped in thought. “Pa kept an old portrait, the size of his hand. You were pregnant with Lilia, and Pa was only seven or so. Grandfather was in it, as well. It was hidden very well, but I found it. He wasn’t happy when I confronted him about it… I sort of thought it was a sick joke.”

“I had two of those painted, I remember. Something for them to remember us by, when the time came that we were no longer with them. It was far too early, for both of us. Come, sit.” She gestured to a low growing toadstool, large enough for Petra to sit comfortably on it, which she did, surprised at how soft and sturdy it was. “We could use a little more light, as well.”

With a wave of her hand, the darkness above seemed to crack and break, the old trees that formed the towering dome moving apart to let the light of the moon inside. The silver light danced over the leaves of the willow, carrying with it a breeze from the cliffside that Petra took in deep, reveling in the salty scent. 

“There. I sometimes like to let the trees rest so I can remember what it is like beyond the walls.” Her green eyes fell on Petra, who itched to ask a thousand questions all at once. “All that I wish I could tell you would be far too much exposition for any young lady to hear. I know why you are here, Petra. I called, and you came. It was simply good fortune that Marric was already on his way. For some time, I thought I had lost you.”

“We came in… a city.”

“Yes. I felt you touch land outside of the old city. I called Nyx to me, but he was gravely injured. You have become strong, and you will only grow stronger.”

“You know why we are here, then?”

“I know why you are here. I assume that Marric is here for much the same reason. He should be, as I have pushed such an idea on the young Headmistress for a great many years.” Older eyes twinkled with glee, and she reached to touch Petra’s hand with her own. “She never wavered from believing in you, though she was aware of me. She knew, as I knew she would.”

“I don’t understand.” Petra turned her hand over, drifting fingers along the older woman’s palm.

“You know of me. Of the sacrifice that I made for Gilneas, for my people and those who had allied with them.”

“Of course. Among the ones who escaped, you’re lauded as a hero. Little girls want to be you, little boys dream of besting your image. Everyone knows of Brinella… the Bennett family is respected.” She smirked at the delicate blush on the older woman’s cheeks.

“Far too much credit to give an old woman, I’d think.” Brinella sighed, her other hand coming to clasp Petra’s between them. “The dragons are long gone, Petra.”

“Then… we’ve come here for nothing?” Her lip quivered, the sense of failure hitting her hard and fast.

“No, not exactly. The dragons are gone, the Aspects long since lost to us, but the magic they carried still exists. You could find that much. You could give life to a whole new flight.” Brinella’s voice softened. “But it would be hard. Very hard.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t think you would. This time, I think it would be best if you simply saw it for yourself.” Her fingers lifted, and she paused. “What you are going to see are memories, caged away in the last safe place I could find. The Dream is no longer a pleasant place… do not wander far.” Her touch was delicate, and Petra experienced a brief moment of falling as the dark surroundings faded.

The mist that seemed to constantly accompany the elder druid flooded the area, casting a sheen of green over the cavern. Where the forest had been dark, the cavern glittered with light cast from the large fire that sat in the midst of the complete flat floor. The perfect dome that comprised the cavern was shot through with veins of precious minerals and gems, some the size of a human head. However, for Petra, those were nothing compared to the dominating figures that surrounded her.

“They brought us here. We were pulled in our sleep, unconscious and unaware, and we woke here. We were frightened.” Brinella’s ghostly form appeared beside her, her gown mirroring the scales of the towering green dragon that flanked her. “It took me years to understand that our fears were nothing compared to their own.”

“They come, Mother.”

“I know.” The gentle voice radiated through the cavern, the smaller figures in the middle of the dragon circle quieting their nervous chatter to focus on the scarlet female. Alexstraza watched them with a sad look on her reptilian features, her voice weary and full of an apprehension she clearly fought with constantly. Beside her, Ysera’s glittering green body shifted in a mirror to her sister’s pain.

Petra looked away from the dragons, each Aspect represented in their entire glory with at least one consort and a scattering of their young, to the group in the middle. There were six, varied in race and age, but each dressed in the trappings of a long-dead group. Brinella was easy to find, her wine-dark hair and green garb fairly glowing in the light of the fire. Beside her, a towering male night elf was dressed in much the same garb as her - a simple robe that bore a green scale. Petra noted another human, an old crone who hunched where she stood, both hands settled on the head of a cane that was no doubt used to help her walk. A gnome female watched the nearby blue dragons warily, while a regal Sin’dorei male in bronze cast humble looks to the quietly watching bronze Aspect. Last, a half-elven female in red remained apart from the rest, though near enough to her patron.

“I beg of you to reconsider this, Mother.”

“We have no more time.” Alexstraza looked to Nozdormu, and he offered only a simple shake of his head. “It is our only choice left, and one that we can no longer debate upon.”

“I…”

“Quiet, my son.”

“I understand his trepidation.” The smallest of the Aspects, Wrathion’s obsidian form was more a shadow playing along the wall than a corporeal being. His eyes bore into the young red that seemed to want to speak again, and he grinned a devious grin that would have sent even the most brave soldiers scattering. “My father abused the trust of this Council the last that such an idea was put forward. I would not have done so, if it was not the last option I had.”

“It will kill us.” 

“No, child. We are already dead. The mortals call for our aid without understanding that we have already been hit. They wished our aid to quell the might of the Dark Lady, but we can no more help them than we can help ourselves. The Legion has found a way into our nests, they have broken our eggs and slaughtered our young. With our futures compromised, they seek to rip away our hope.”

Petra caught the look of pain in Alexstraza’s eyes. No doubt she had been the hardest hit, and after all that she had suffered…

“We cannot fight with them. We can only make a last stand, and try to cleave as many as we can from coming down upon the mortals. It will be a stand taken far, far away. We have no other choice. This is our end… but we can ensure a beginning for our kind in time.” Kalecgos looked to the human woman beside him, a frown playing along his features.

“What you are doing should be gifted to those who hold the greater good in their hearts. You have chosen those who are unknown, possibly weak.” Jaina shook her head, unwilling to meet the eyes of the Aspect. “It is the leaders who should be given your gifts.”

“It is your leaders who have brought this on us.” The red could no longer hold his tongue, his body moving forward to loom over the mage with fire lighting the depths of his maw. “We helped you. We broke all our vows. All of our orders, to help you. In return, we have lost everything and gained nothing!”

“Don’t presume to know or understand my own loss…”

“A town is nothing! We are barren! There are no more eggs, there will never be any more eggs. Those who live now are all that are left, and still we are willing to bend our necks and have them severed from our bodies. For you!”

Petra felt Brinella’s hand touch her shoulder to comfort her against the anger of the red, but she saw the droops of necks and wings that were far more telling of the truth than any questions could pull. Amidst the dragons, the mortals gasped and seemed shocked, a few looking towards their patrons as if offering comfort that could never be enough for the holes that had to be filled.

“Don’t presume to dictate how I - how we - should feel. Do not presume to stand before us and stomp your slipper-clad feet in indignation. It was your hatred and your lack of control that forced our hand. You were not chosen because you are uncontrollable. What you could do with our powers, with even a drop of our powers, would be unforgivable. You are unsuitable.”

“That is enough.” 

Alexstraza was no longer quiet, her anger flaring and silencing the red. When she focused on Jaina, it was clear that she was fighting to keep emotions under control. When she spoke, the leash restraining herself made her voice deadpan. 

“It is true that you were not chosen for these reasons. We chose those that we did because they are unique, and devoted. We chose them because they are not leaders, and thus they are inconspicuous. Forgettable. Should they vanish, no one would be the wiser.”

It was not hard to see Brinella shift uncomfortably. Beside her companion, she seemed to shrink smaller, her hand touching lightly to her stomach. Petra glanced to her companion, who nodded.

“At the time, I was carrying your aunt. I was fairly certain that William and your father would both miss me, should I go missing. He knew that, as well,” she gestured to the man who stood behind her before motioning for Petra to return her attention to the group.

“ … - Once the gift is given, you will all be removed to a point outside the reach of the Legion. You will be tended to by those who will no longer remember what they were. You will be tasked with guarding that which you have been given, so that, should there be a time in the future when it is needed, you will be able to pass on this knowledge. The Age of Dragons is past, the Age of Mortals has now begun to wane, while the Age of Legion rises quickly…”

Alexstraza’s voice dimmed to the point that Petra could no longer hear her, though around her the memory continued. She saw each mortal take their place in front of the once might Aspect that they had devoted themselves to, but the moment that hands touched the massive maws of the beasts, the swirling mist took over and Petra could hear only one voice.

“The others will be scattered to the winds, lost to time and magic. You, who have been both blessed and cursed anew, will remain on the waking realm. When you die, your soul will remain tied to that which you are bound… you will be a guardian beyond the grave, until the gift is passed. I am sorry, child. I am so, so sorry.”

She felt Brinella’s hand take her own, a simple squeeze centering her as the mist and darkness cleared to reveal the forest again.

“Ysera alone knew that her brood would die quickly. As the druids who helped moderate the Dream began to die, the Nightmare spread. I have killed so very many, Petra. I have left you with so little… except one. One who has likely forgotten completely.”

“I don’t… understand.”

“The Aspects took from their broods the ability to change. They were forced into mortal shapes, and their magic torn away from them. Everything that they could do to save their remaining children, their remaining lovers… all they could do for them, in the end, was take it all away. For years now, the broods have lived locked away from the rest of the world, disguised by the final protections given to them by their leaders before the Aspects left to meet the Legion. The dragons never came because there were no dragons to come.”

“Except one.”

“Yes, except one.” The older woman smiled faintly and looked behind them, misty green eyes falling on the form of the cat that had slowly wound his way towards them. Her hand reached out, and Nyx sniffed idly at the fingertips nearest before rubbing along her palm and coming to sit beside her. “I did feel some measure of sorrow for locking him into this shape… but it was the only way I could keep him as a dragon.”

“Ny-Nyx!?” Petra’s mouth dropped open, realization hitting her like a cart of bricks. “I thought he was… he’s just a cat!”

“What cat do you know lives sixty years or more? No. Nyx is every bit a dragon, he’s just likely forgotten about it beneath all that fur.” Brinella placed a hand atop the feline’s head, her eyes closing. “It’s time for that to be rectified. With Ysera’s gift, I took his magic from him and locked him away. With that same gift, I return it all to him… so that he will be able to help you during the journey you have.”

“Wait…”

Too late. The hand that touched on the cat’s head began to glow, and the yowl that he released made Petra lunge for him, grabbing him up at the same moment that his body began to change. The snap of bones and muscle twisting was painful in her ears, but at the moment she settled on the ground, she was head-to-chest against a man nearly a foot taller than her, coiled muscle beneath dark skin that was warm against her cheek.

“Nyxmerus.”

Scuttling away, Petra watched the naked man - considerably Kaldorei - rise, his eyes on his hands. Everything about him was dark, like the moon when hidden behind clouds. His hair fell in a dark wash of black, and though he was softened by a life as a fat housecat, a glimpse at his eyes spoke of a feral nature that no mere cat could match.

For a moment, the young woman seemed to have been completely forgotten. Brinella watched her old friend as closely as he watched her, but when he looked to her with those piercing eyes, she did not move away. Instead, she held her arms open and took him against herself, a small laugh leaving her as he slowly wrapped his own arms around her smaller body.

“You turned me into a bloody cat.”

“I saved you in the best way I knew! You were always a better cat than you were a dragon.”

“We were sworn…”

“That didn’t stop me from having to make one of the hardest choices in my life, but I needed you to be here for my family. For Petra.” They released one another, and his eyes fell on the younger druid.

“The girl I’ve watched over without realizing for years, now. This is the one you’ve chosen to take your place?”

“Yes. To take the place of all of them, in truth. By the end of this, she will be the mother to an entirely new form of dragon… you are the last true dragon, my friend. I am sorry.” Brinella’s joy had melted to pain, and she could no longer meet the searching eyes of the man that towered over her. “Because you were a cat, because your nature was stolen from you at the time and hidden within, you were immune to the magic that changed all others. And, for now, you are the only green walking Azeroth.”

“The others?”

“Without the druids, the Nightmare reigned. I tried to save as many as I could, but… one by one, they all fell further than I could go. Your brothers, sisters… even your mate. I am so sorry, Nyx.” She fell into his arms again, her face pressed into his chest.

“You did all that you could. I would never doubt that.” He touched the top of her head gently, then pulled her from him. “I told you that I would serve you as long as you lived.”

“I am dead, mostly. Held here by Ysera’s knowledge, but I will be able to rest once I give it all over to Petra. I have no hold on you right now, Nyx… but I’m going to ask you a favor. Not as a sworn to her dragon, but as one friend to another. I need you to guide them both, and guard them.”

“Even the Knight?”

“Even him, for all that I know he goes against all that you are. He’s dying, Nyx. A slow, agonizing death that the new world has inflicted on him. His days are numbered, and he may not even last another few months. He will begin to get more and more violent, and while Petra is capable of fending him off now, when his hysteria reaches the worst of it all, he will be able to tear her limb from limb. She will need more power. She needs the flights, and they need her.”

“I’m right here. That’s enough.” Petra didn’t like the idea of dying, let alone by the hands of one who was quickly becoming a friend. “Marric can’t die, and he won’t hurt me!” The way the two looked at one another made her want to hit them both, but she settled for looking away as Brinella waved a hand, cloaking the Kaldorei in mist that faded to reveal the robes he had worn in her memory.

“Marric has survived this long because he never died. He succumbed to the Lich King without dying, and it is his own natural body that keeps him going. However, the magic of your world is tearing him apart piece by piece, and there is not enough of him left to fight it off once it has devoured the unnatural magic that was placed there long ago. Despite this…” Brinella looked to Nyx and then back to Petra, “... despite this, there may still be hope.”

-

“It’s time to wake up, Marric.” 

Heavy eyelids struggled to remove the haze of drowsiness that he surrendered to. Now once again, it was words that sought to pull him from unconsciousness, no matter how his body wished to remain incapacitated. As his eyelids slowly peeled open, swirling light of icy blue and burning emerald peeked through, as he blinked away the spell of sleep he was under.

“That’s a good boy.” Delicate fingers, as soft as those that had never seen a day’s labor, slipped beneath his shoulders to help him rise. “It will take a little bit to have the sleep wear off, but it will wear off. For now, it’s time to wake up.” Urgency touched the soft purr, a familiar and motherly voice he hadn’t heard in days. “Come on, my son. You don’t want the darkness to swallow you.”

His hearing faded in and out, as if his head was bobbing in water and momentarily muting sound. But the gentle hands assisting him did register, as he found in way into a sitting position. His hands went to push himself up to his knees, but slid across soft fur. This quickly caught his attention as his hands ran over the furs that blanketed him, just as they would in his own bed. Which quickly dawned on him, that he was indeed laying in his bed, or one that closely resemble it. 

Shifting his upper body around his hand ran across the headboard, finding several claw marking that indeed belonged there. Whipping around to face the leftmost corner of the room, his chest laid upon the floor where he kept it, easily identifiable in the candle lit bedroom. Their bedroom. Only he was alone. Well, not alone, that thought reminded him that he was indeed sharing the room, as he pivoted to look back at the one helping to wake him.

“Do you know where you are?” It didn’t matter, the area around them seeming to crack and peel as though a fire was burning through it all, but there were no flames. There was no heat. “I used to rest against that wall, just there.” There was the whisk of cloth as she came fully into his sight, the blue robe barely confining the motherly curves that it covered. Her eyes were blue, like ice and the sky mixed into one, but where she had once been quite cold to the touch, she was now warm, her hand easily felt on his own as she squeezed it tight and tried to draw him up. “Focus, child. There is not much time.”

“Syori!” He nearly toppled her over in his excitement, hugging to her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Light I missed you.” His face pulled back as his eyes glimmered back at her. “We’re home. Home where we belong but.. I don’t recall getting back here. What happened?”

“Hush, hush. I’m here. I’ve always been here… or at least, I’ve always been with you in one way or another.” She drew away from him, her hands framing his face in the way only a mother could. “We aren’t home. Home burned a long time ago, if you remember. This is simply a place of your own design. Your happy place, as some would call it. It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

It took him a moment to register, but the disappointment was painfully clear. “Ah. So I’m dreaming again.” He ran fingers through his hair. “Man, my head is getting really good at toying with me. It all looks and feels so real. The fur, the wood frame. You. You even smell as I remember. But.. none of it is real.” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and center himself. It shouldn’t take him too long to wake back up. “I don’t really want to wake though. I still miss you and the others. It’d be easier to dream wouldn’t it.” 

“Try hearing your daughter scream, and not be able to find her. There are worse dreams than waking up in your own bed, my sweet.” She stood and pulled at his arm. “You’ve come here at a bad time. This part of the Dream is dying, and there is no way to save it. Yet, you can at least save them, but we need to move, now. We can talk while we run.” She released him and went to the door, the area cracking and fraying around her. “Come.”

“Wait, dying? What exactly do you mean by dying? Is it the Nightmare? And save who, you?” He said as he swept the furs from him and made his way to the door after her, noting a slight breeze as he left his bedroom in a hurry. Perhaps for the final time, he thought for a passing moment.

“Not me. I’m beyond the point of saving, and have been for years. In truth, I died a long time ago… giving all that I could in order to keep you alive.” There was supposed to be a house, but there was no such thing, just sudden forest that seemed to only grow darker as they passed through it. “It isn’t that I don’t appreciate it, but I simply know it isn’t possible. For now, I’m simply trying to herd as many as I can to safety, so they can be cared for.”

She paused as a scream rang through the trees, one full of terror and pain, and achingly familiar in every way that someone hated to be familiar with such a noise. Syori’s eyes flashed back to him, her pain clear as she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the trees, away from the screams that had now become sobbing. 

The panic and dread that ran through his veins pushed him against her tugging. Even though he trusted her with his life, every fiber of his being urged him toward that scream. A twist of his wrist broke her grip as he surged forward, paying no mind the plantlife that whipped at bare skin as he rushed towards darkness. That voice would stay with him for eternity, unless he got there now. He knew it in his heart.

“Marric! No!” The woman looked back the way she had been trying to drag him before taking off after him, passing through the encroaching wilderness with far more grace than he. “Marric, you aren’t supposed to go after her!” After a moment she stopped, unable to see him. “If you save her, you’re going to die. You’ll never get out of here, and your wife and daughter will be trapped as well. You have to let Ash go, or lose everything else!”

“Are you saying I have to choose to let her die?” He stopped dead, as if his legs were turned to stone as he turned back to her. 

“Ash has people trying to help her. She’s been running through this place for weeks now, but she has people helping her. Temis and Lyre? Temis has been killing Lyre for fifty years. Over and over, slaughtering her in the worst possible ways, and if the Nightmare gets a hold of the both of them, that’s how it will end. They will become monsters, the both of them.” Her plea was gentle. “I know you love my daughter, I know you always have. But you need to know that she will make it out. They won’t. Even with your help there’s a slim chance they won’t, but without you? Without you, there is no end but a horrible one. They need you. Ash doesn’t.”

“I…” He gave no dispute, only a glance back towards Ashadel’s direction. “It’s my fault you’re here. But it’s my fault they are too. I’m sorry Ash.” He turned back, lifting Syori up into his arms as he sprinted off in the direction she had been leading him before. “No arguing, I’m faster than you are. And I’ve already cost us time.” He could practically feel her through the robe in surprising clarity as he tore through the darkening forest.

“I’m also, oh, nevermind.” The older woman sighed and shook her head, laying her head briefly against his chest. She was warm, more warm than anyone who was dead had a right to be. “But you’re going to have to put me down soon. I can’t go where you are going.”

He glanced down at her for a second as he rushed on. “Why? Is it.. that bad?” He could feel his heart beating harder and faster the closer they got. It was a sensation similar to walking towards your own execution. A feeling he pushed away by tightening his grip on Syori. He knew he would probably never see her again. He felt if he held her just a bit tighter, she’d stay around longer. Foolish thoughts of a boy still inside that still didn’t want to let go.

“Stop.” It was the urgent tone that caused him to skid to a halt, and because he had ceased running, it was how he noticed the body. Gently setting Syori down he moved cautiously to the unmoving figure. His hands shook slightly, afraid of who’s face, currently hidden by a raven colored curtain of hair, he would see once he turned it over, but he had to be sure. Grasping the shoulder, he pulled towards him to reveal… a face he hadn’t seen in more than half a century. 

He didn’t know how she was here. Last he had known, she still lived in Shattrath, and everyone knew there was no going back there. A blood elf with a curvaceous figure he had helped relocate with two children. Only now.. as he took a better look, she lay beaten and broken. Someone had taken time tearing her to shreds.

It was upon seeing her that it all clicked. Why the two people he was chasing down were here. Why he was here. The years of grief and guilt. Why he had locked himself up from others. It had all led to this. He only gave a glance back to the figure he could almost consider a second mother, before running off ahead. He knew that he was to blame for what had taken place. He just had to hope that he could make it all right again.

Syori watched him go, a terrible sadness plain on her face as darkness enveloped her, twisting her body away from a shade of a memory and into something much more horrible. She made no sound, her eyes the last of what was to go, vivid blue vanishing just moments before the whispering horrors chasing Marric down succeeded in consuming her soundlessly, giving the man no warning as to what was coming.

As he got closer, the only sounds he could hear were his feet on the ground, his heavy breathing, and his heart beating in his ears. Yet everything else around him was dead silent. That alone made him believe he was close. The scream just sealed it. The terrible scream and choking sob of someone pushed far past fear and into something much worse that even he, with years of experience in terror, could not hope to put a name to.

Marric didn’t notice the scenery darken until his footing became unstable, the familiar woods he had spent years in giving way to a scene from something he expected deep in the center of Scourge territory. The scream of a young child, of a little girl he had made laugh so many times before, rang in his ears from all directions. He turned, and bit back a startled gasp as his eyes met the hollowed pits of what had no doubt been a beautiful woman, once. 

Now, she hung from the tree like an effigy left for the ravens. The remains of blonde hair hung limply from a scalp that had been carefully cut and peeled, decayed flesh still wet with blood. Her hands and feet were bolted to the tree with arrows sunk deep into the wood, her body emaciated, every bone easily visible without effort, her skin cracked and weathered like old leather that had been forgotten while it cured. 

With a pit in his stomach, he swallowed back bile and leaned forward, fear turning to disgust as a whiff of rotting breath touched his nose. He flinched back, eyes going wide as the thing convulsed and screamed, an inhuman noise deep from it’s chest that welled up in the scarred throat, bubbling like liquid. Marric shouted, backing into another tree only to find that what he had thought were branches were instead long, spindly fingers that fought to grab and scratch him, sending fire through a body that should not have felt anything.

He fled, tearing himself away from their grip as the entire wood came alive around him, their screams of pain like a poison to his very spirit. The further he fled, the fresher the bodies became, no longer a part of the trees themselves, but simply bodies that had been pinned and left to die, and the fresher the screaming corpses became, the more he could recognize the screams and moans of pain. He closed his eyes as he passed by a pair that looked like they had only been put there mere days prior, unwilling to see the woman’s gutted stomach and the writhing, pulsing sac of flesh that lay beneath her on the ground, an arrow lodged through the heart of it.

He nearly tripped over a pile of bodies - women torn to pieces to lay forgotten in a macabre display of rage that reflected the air that now pressed against him like a wall, heavy with anger and scorn. The screams of the dead forest seemed to fade as the scene opened itself to him, and his breath caught in his throat.

She was the easiest to see, his little girl. He remembered the yellow dress she wore now with vivid clarity, though he could swear she had gotten that when she was much older than she appeared now. Her blue hair, worn long past her hips, was wet with sweat and blood, her cheeks stained with dirt and tears. She looked as though she had been running forever, and he knew from experience that she could have been doing just that.

But his little girl had never screamed like that, never begged the way she was begging now. Her sobs were tortured, words trying to make their way through the pain that no doubt flooded her every vein as she struggled against the arrow pinning her to the tree, lodged through her shoulder.

“Momma, please…”

He saw her, then. Temis had always been beautiful to him, a wildcat in elven form who never needed him to do what she needed to do. His heart ached as his eyes viewed the shape that stood not far from him, between he and his daughter. He had thought, for the moment his mind had seen nothing but his daughter, that Temis had merely been a tree blocking the path… but she was no tree.

They clung to her in webs, shimmering bodies cloaked in darkness so he could barely see what they were. Temis stood with her back to him, and though she seemed made of glimmering silk, the chittering that came from her made the hair on his neck stand on end. He knew that sound. The moments before the base in Grizzly Hills fell zipped through his head, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth that he swallowed back before it could cause him grief.

He moved slowly, and yet the woman never seemed to hear him. Even Lyre had quieted, and a quick glance at her face told him that she could see him, but she dared not even begin to hope. No doubt they had both seen things they could no longer trust, but it broke his heart to see her so afraid to call out for him. Temis’ face came into profile, and he realized the true change that was slowly coming over her. 

Spiders crawled over her, nesting and breeding in her hair, spinning webs that connected her limbs like a cloak. He reached a hand for her and paused when he realized she was naked - her skin had hardened, the beautiful lines of the armor she had worn in life now twisted into the plated carapace of a creature no elf should have become, but she was naked all the same, the hard flesh grooved and torn as if it had simply swallowed her armor, assimilated it into her body before changing her.

But it was her face that made his stomach turn. The angled features were split and cracked around her mouth, and when his daughter screamed again, they split in a horrific grin that simply continued to open, the mandibles of a spider pushing their way out from lips that had so often been made to smile in his company. They were nothing like that, now, her entire jaw little more than the mouthpiece of the arachnids that climbed so freely over her body.

He flinched as another arrow was let go, barely visible at all past the hands that had become long and sickly, halfway to becoming skeletal pincers. Lyre screamed again, the bolt deep in her other shoulder, only a few inches away from her heart. Unable to run, no doubt so tired after fleeing from the woman who had taught her everything, the girl finally found it in her to cry for someone else.

“Daddy!”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” Her choked sob was half a laugh, as if she couldn’t believe for even a moment that he was speaking all by himself. He moved slowly, standing between his mate and his daughter, his hands up in a gesture of peace. Temis’ eyes moved - multiple times. Each eye was puckered, and he realized that they were splitting into four a piece. His hand swept behind him, and for the first time in decades, he felt the warm tips of Lyre’s fingers on his own.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“No, not this time.” Temis wasn’t moving, save for the eyes that slowly twitched and parted, moving to replicate those of a spider’s. Her mouth finally opened again, a sickening noise like that of a gagging choke heard as a black arrow shaft slowly made it’s way up her throat and out, pulled into place by limbs that appeared from beneath her cloak of webs. Marric turned away, bracing his hands on either side of his daughter as pain lanced up his body. 

“She knows, Daddy. All the times. All the mistakes. I’m so sorry, Daddy. I can’t run any more. I never should have teased you. I never should have pretended with you!” Her eyes fell to the bolt piercing him, the skin around the black chitin now discolored and quickly dying. “I just wanted you to love me. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want…”

“Hush.” His vision wavered, and he fought to ignore the crawling sensation beneath the skin around the bolt. “I didn’t come to love you.. just because we shared each other’s bodies. Lyre.. I loved you when I first saved you in the forest so long ago. The first purely innocent soul I had met in years of living with war and suffering. And it was because of you that I found myself in the care of your mother, who I fell in love with that same night.”

“I… I remember.” She wasn’t crying anymore, though tears still hung wet on her cheeks. “You were looking for… no, you were running away. You were jealous.” Her eyes flicked to his own, her tone concerned and so very sad. “There are no secrets here, Daddy. Only doubts made real. She knows… she knows it all.” Her hand lifted, touching on his cheek, and for a moment his strength returned and he felt no pain at all. “You thought you were beyond saving, once. Please… help her realize she isn’t beyond it, herself.”

“Is there even anything left of her in there?” He half hoped she’d deny him that much, half hoped that the woman he loved was gone and he wouldn’t have to face the monster thinking that it was her.

“Always. There’s always something left of those we’ve hurt. Mistakes were made… it’s time to fix those mistakes. I want her to rest, Daddy. I want to sleep. I’ve been running for such a long time. Will you save her, please?”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m long gone. Just something trapped here to torment her, like everyone else has been. Just tell me you’ll save her, Daddy. Please, just save her.”

“I will.”

“Thank you…” She was gone. He realized it just as another bolt was fired, and had he been there in person instead of just in spirit, he was sure he would no longer have had a spleen.

He didn’t want to face her. He didn’t want to turn around and see that she had gotten worse. Though he had promised his daughter he would save her mother, the truth was that he had no idea how to save her from… herself. Marric turned slowly, and found that his beloved was already changing again, her legs boating and breaking, shaping themselves into a mockery of a spider’s abdomen. 

She was unrecognizable. He knew that, beneath the horror she was becoming, somewhere in there still beat the heart of the woman he loved more than anything. That awful retching noise began again, and he saw the bolt move up through her throat before he registered that he was moving, and - Light help his sorry ass - she was moving closer. 

He saw something reflected in her eight glittering eyes, something far more human than the monster she had become. Her wrists, or whatever the pairs of arms that came out from the cloak of webs to catch the bolt that fell from her mouth had been before they had become the awful things they were now, snapped as he bat them away with a hard slap, his own hands reaching forward to flank her face. 

He felt something crawl over his fingers, and he bravely swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as her mandibles parted, her lower jaw splitting open to eject the next chitin bolt. Marric closed his eyes tight, knowing that his last moments could be that bolt going through his face. Still, he risked it, and the glade went dead silent as he pressed his lips to where her own had once been.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, I've been told this is a little torture-porny. It's not a nice chapter, so if you have problems with spiders in un-fun places... well, cover your eyes.

Something was wrong. Petra couldn’t explain the feeling she had, except that she knew it wasn’t one she should have been having. Just moments before, she found herself propelled by hope, but now there was something twisting in her gut. She was not the only one to notice.

“You will have to go after him.” A cool hand wrapped around her own, and she was brought to look into the eyes that her own mirrored. “I wish, my sweet child, that I could have you here for much longer. To teach you all that I could. To teach all that I wish I could have taught my children.” Something was pressed into her palm, and she clutched it without looking, still drawn into Brinella’s gaze. “You will go with Nyx. He will watch over you both, and with him, you will be much safer.

“But the Dream is no longer a safe place, and I should not have sent Marric into it. We will not see one another for some time, I’m afraid. Not until the end, and then that will certainly be the last time. You must listen to Nyx, and to your instinct. They will keep you alive better than any magic ever could. I will be sending you directly into the Dream, through one of the most promising paths. From there, you will need to find your way to the Eye of Ysera. That is the reason you must go through my paths. I am linked to a place that always moves, so you must go through me. Once there, you will be safe. You will have time to rest, and you will be able to find your way to the next place.

“When you are finished… I will be waiting. You will have the rest of what is your birthright, and I will rest. It will be time to go home, and you will never be able to return to this place. Azeroth will stop fighting the diseases that threaten it, and it will begin to collapse. It is already dying, do not try to save anything. Petra, one more thing.” Her hands tightened around the younger woman’s, her voice suddenly quite sad. “Everything you will see is real. Real in that I lived it all, but not in that it can hurt you, normally. The Nightmare will twist my memories, make you believe that you are me. Once you believe, you will be trapped.

“I don’t know what you will see. My deepest regrets, my worst hurts. It may be completely good, perhaps too good. It’s all real, but not to you. You need to remember this.”

Petra nodded, but could bring no words forth as the elder druid moved away. Nyx moved up beside her, touching a hand lightly to her shoulder, but Petra could not hear the words that were traded. She could see the bowed shoulders, and could understand the hug that was shared between them, intimate even in the distance that was there. Lovers? No. There was no sense of romance in the manner she had come to know it. Just the intense sadness of near-family now made to say goodbye too early. Unable to will herself to watch more, she turned away…

… and knew pain.

Her breath was ripped from her, a scream so high that it came out as nothing more than a wheeze of air harshly pushed through a maw that was changing before her very eyes. She cried out, scrambling in the dark, and felt nails tear away from skin as claws took their place. The wood beneath her cracked and shattered, and she tasted blood as fangs ripped through her gums.

“Ella?”

There was noise. A sound, a scent. She breathed in and found the room to be overpowering. It was dark, the outline of familiar objects lit just so by the now open stable door, blocked only by the form of something large. Human. Woods. Gunpowder. Her eyes narrowed as a shotgun was brought to bear, and then there was only the scream of a man dying.

She was running. Something was chasing her, flying through the rainclouds that drenched Gilneas. The city burned, glass stabbing deep into her paws as she ran as fast as her malformed body could handle. The cliffs were nearby. She knew where they were, even with the land split asunder. No one could tell her that she didn’t know this place.

But she didn’t. The realization hit her as fast as the ground went out from under her, and she hit something hard, the breath leaving her in one painful exhalation. With eyes that were blurred with tears, she scrabbled for purchase on the limb of the giant tree that was her whole existence. The rain was harder now, seeking to push her away. She was going to fall. She was going to fall!

“It’s not real.”

The thrum of the unknown voice warmed her, reaching to a cold core and wrapping comfort around it. Above her, now grasping at her claws with hands that dwarfed her own, was an elven man. A half-man, his naked body covered in glittering green scales. 

“It’s not yours.”

She felt the tree shudder, felt it come alive beneath her skin, and she saw his mouth open again to shout a warning as the entire tree shook her off. With a yelp, she was falling. Teldrassil vanished from her view, leaving her to fall into an endlessness that had her closing her eyes and waiting for the end.

It didn’t come. There was something in the dark with her, skittering along walls that she couldn’t see, only touch. A light flared, far away at the end of the tunnel, and she moved towards it, her bare feet slapping on wet stone as her steps quickened and she flung herself at the opening, only to see the world through new eyes. No, her eyes. In front of her, on one knee, knelt the man she loved more than life itself. More than anything. She could see his words forming, could see her body moving, and could hear laughter as she beat at the glass cage that kept her from revealing the truth.

“It’s not me! William! It’s not me!”

The glass shattered, and there were screams all around her. The forest was alive with them, ringing from left to right in a haze that made her feel as though she were underwater. She turned, gown billowing around her, and found the portal. Through green mist, she could see them. They were dying. They were coming to save her, but they were dying. 

“Please… help me. I’m so sorry! Help me!”

There was quiet. Blessed silence, a quiet place amidst trees and glen. Her body ached, fingers clinging to the bed beneath her as she screamed. There was nothing here. No midwives, no Nightmare. Her and her baby. She was having a baby! 

“This is not yours…”

Her eyes opened, and she saw the large eye outside the window just before it all changed again, flashing by like a book flipped through pages in an attempt to find one that would take hold on the girl who knew nothing of the world she was now dropped into. 

“It’s…”

“Not yours. Hers.”

She ran. They were everywhere, now. Her daughter clung to her neck, held securely by vines as she sprinted through the Gilnean landscape. Beside her, her son kept an easy pace, taking his sister when she was handed over, and she pressed through the attack toward the lone feline. 

It happened in slow motion, watching him die. She heard her own scream, and felt the surge of power inside. William was dead. The threads snapped and tore around her. Gilneas was dying. The land was crying out in agony, begging for a release to the pain. She turned and saw her children, terrified of what was coming, and knew that she had no other choice. 

Her son was angry. She felt it in the fire of his threads, felt it as easy as she felt her daughter’s fear. She watched her children fly, watched those who would take them to safety attempt to outrun the violent roots that burst forth from the ground. There was no pain anymore. She was dead, as dead as they wanted her to be. Demons raked at her skin, tore her clothes, yet her eyes were on the speck that was her children, blurred by the tears that fell freely. 

There was darkness. It seemed that way for a long time. She had been wandering, pulling on threads that withered under her hands until she found the one that surged with life and called to her. The world became something new and terrifying, the Dream she had existed in twisted into something even more beautiful than it had already been. 

“Go away.”  
A little boy blocked her way, watching her with eyes that betrayed the anger beneath them. Her hands reached for him, a quiet sob escaping a throat that hadn’t made noise in years. She wanted him. Wanted to touch him, to hold him. He looked just like his father, save for the red in his hair. 

“Lorcan…”

“Go away!”

Dark again, but this time was different. A cradle of life, of pulsing green and gold, held a newborn within. It called to her, a second chance. She came near, circling the cradle and ignoring the room that wavered outside her sight. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This little one didn’t deserve it, and yet… Her fingers touched the soft skin, felt the pulse of life beneath her own long-dead fingers, and she wept anew.

Her fingers closed around the little hand, as every tear dripped on to the child’s bare skin, leaving a trail of dragon scales over skin before they faded from view. The little girl did not cry, did not scream… but her eyes opened, and looked deep into her own.

She did not let go.

“Me.”

The Nightmare bucked, realizing it’s err as Petra clung to the memory that made her whole. Around her, the darkness beat at her and tore through her being, and yet she would not release the little girl. The entire world screamed in her ears, and she thought she would go deaf with the agony of it all, and then there was warmth against her back, hands on her arms that pulled her away from a child that no longer existed and whirled her around.

It was gone. In one terrifying moment, the world righted itself and she was left in a quiet glade, wrapped tightly in the glimmering arms of the one she had snuggled up against for what seemed to have been her entire life. Only then, when she was certain that there was no more to be shown, did she lean heavily into the elven male’s chest and weep.

What seemed like an eternity’s worth of agony was mended in only a few seconds, Nyxmerus’ long fingers pulling through her hair in the same way that she had grown up with from her own parents. The familiar feeling calmed her quickly, but it took several moments more for her to stop sobbing and for the dull ache of dissent to vanish. By the time she stopped, Nyxmerus had coaxed her to sit, and she was using him more to lean over the grass beneath her than actually leaning on him.

He did not ask her if she was okay, instead leaving his hand on her back as though to simply assure her that his presence was real, and would remain there.

“All of that? All of it was real?” She turned her head to look at him from the corner of her eyes, her voice ragged. “Who… who were those people?”

“Your grandmother was forced to make many choices in her short life. Not all of them were ones she was proud of. The death of her father at her own hands has always haunted her, and choosing to give her children their lives instead of clinging to them? Perhaps the greatest sacrifice.” He was quiet, watching her with the same eyes she had grown up seeing.

“My father…”

“Could you blame him? To his eyes, he was abandoned by the one person he had left. He could no more accept her reasons than any other child could. It is up to you to determine how you feel about that.” He cocked his head, and she nearly smiled.

“It was stupid.” She looked away, closing her eyes and welcoming the dark. “But… but I can’t blame him. I think I would have done the same. I felt… everything. I thought her mind would be one-way. Father painted her like that… but there were a thousand questions answered in every moment of thought. Even if the choice she made hurt like nothing else, she made the choice that was best.”

“She was a martyr like that, in some ways.” He went quiet, and she opened her eyes to follow him as he stood and took a few steps into the mist that surrounded them. It parted, swirling around his legs and picking up glittering streams of light. “A good and surprisingly powerful woman, but a martyr in her own right. Don’t let her choices blind you to the fact that, beneath it all, she was always human. Always Gilnean. Come. We have your friend to find.”

***

Her malformed jaw vibrated against his lips, the intake of air a herald for the bolt that passed from her mouth and into his head with ease. The shock of it numbed him, made what he knew was a terrible wound only something that tickled in comparison to the heartache he felt. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not how it was supposed to end. His voice left him in a gurgle, the chitinous barb blocking the air that tried to pass outwards, his tongue flat against the material. It held his mouth open, secured him to the tree that he swore, through a haze of anguish, had not been there moments before.

The woman he loved chittered, the sound bouncing about his skull while she pulled away to view him. Her eyes, now split into eight and vivid yellow against the darkening skin and chitin that was becoming her half-spider body, watched him with a familiar intelligence that made his breath quicken and his heart stop all in one painful moment. His mind reached for better times, for the chance to imagine anything else, any other moment, to be where she was now standing.

“Please…”

It wasn’t even a word anymore, twisted around the barb that held his mouth open and his head pinned. It was a thought, a scream, from deep inside his being, and yet it seemed to fill the entire area and give the spider-woman pause. Only a moment, only a second, and she was moving again. Her hands reached for him, taloned fingers pressing into the skin of his cheek and tearing gouges into the soft flesh. A whimper left him, his eyes shutting as impossibly tiny spiders skittered from her flesh to his, burrowing within the open wounds.

A scream pressed at his chest, aching to be released, as the talons only dug deeper into his skin. By the time she finally stopped at his chest and pulled her hands back, he could feel the blood continuing to drip down his body. He focused on that, choosing to ignore the itch of the arachnids that now poured out along his flesh, trailing blood from the rivulets along his body as they journeyed from one wound to another.

Her chitter crashed through his mental barrier, and this time he did scream. A burn like fire lanced over his groin, her talons drawing thin slits along his shaft, but no spiders crept out. In pain, he tried to squirm and thrash, but found that his body had been pinned in the interim - what his eyes could catch of his own limbs was little more than glistening white webbing.

“Please!”

He released that cry again, and for a moment he felt something stir in the back of his mind. Like a hand reaching through the dark, or the call of a friend through the haze of battle, he could only hear what he felt was support… and a solemn warning, one that he could not understand. So focused on the feeling, he did not see his captor move away from him as if admiring her handiwork.

By now, his beloved was unrecognizable. Had he not watched the change himself, he would never believe that she had become this thing. He felt tears burn his eyes as she neared again, desperately attempting to meet her gaze and pull the one he loved back before it was too late. In his binds, his fingers twitched and his arms shifted, fighting back against the webbed restraints as another cry went out in his mind.

One that was joined by a muffled scream as something that he dared not think about was slowly wiggled inside of him. As if to mock him, the spider-woman made a raspy noise that he swore was an attempt to moan as his urethra stretched painfully around the invasive chitin, and then it was removed as suddenly as it had been there. Before he could find himself any sense of relief, the woman heaved her bulk towards him, her spider-body bracing against the tree. He knew, as a rabbit knows before the lion, what was coming.

The pain this time was searing, and the balm of the voice that called to him through mists and shadows no longer worked to salvage what was becoming a husk of his sanity. The beast before him chittered, relishing in the pain as it forced the odd stinger-like barb into his urethra, ignoring the tender flesh that ripped around the chitin phallus. When he thought he could take no more, it seemed to push even further, and the feeling only worsened.

Scratching, creeping, itchy little legs within his sac. He felt the flesh of his balls stretch as the living spiderlings were poured into him, and his world turned upside down. The pain subsided only just as the chitin was pulled out, a sticky feeling replacing it. Without looking, he somehow knew that his cock - soft from fear and disgust - was being wrapped in the webbing, sealing the creatures within.

For hours, he seemed to hang. It seemed as though years of torment passed as the spiderlings wiggled beneath his skin, detaching it from the muscle. He no longer felt pain as he should have; every tear and every design she drew into his flesh with her claws tore something that could never be repaired deep within his psyche. He was sure, though he could not say when, that the pain became so overwhelming that he started to laugh around the barb, around the blood that pooled in the back of his throat, around the memory of what now lay shattered around him.

The voice that had called to him had become a scream of fear and concern, but he had long since stopped trying to remember whose voice called for him. The trees around them, once empty, were now strewn with the hanging bodies of the ones he had once loved and lost. They laughed at him, with him, around him. They judged him, screamed at him, bent and abused him with truths that he had kept inside and never let see the light. 

Save for one. She stood away from the carnage, her fingertips pressed against her lips as tears streamed down her cheeks and stained the midnight blue hair that was all that hid her body from the world. Though his own voice had long since made him deaf, he could hear her sobs, could hear the ragged breathing of horror, and could hear the one word uttered so very rarely from lips he had kissed a thousand times.

“Please.”

Unbidden, his fingertips twitched again. His limbs felt like lead, and though he knew that he had not moved in what felt like years, he wanted nothing more than to touch the one who stayed so vexingly out of reach. Her expression changed, as though she realized that he was trying to reach for her, but she did not move. As if pinned herself, she looked at him with eyes that begged for everything and nothing as her hand reached, but she seemed as far from him as ever. A groan left him, and though it set his body on fire and hurt him more than he would ever find words for, he wished for nothing more than her touch.

No longer did the spider dominate his vision, and somewhere in the muddied realm of his mind he knew that the angry chittering and fresh waves of pain were her doing. The more he ignored them, the more he set his focus on the image of his love as she used to be, the less the horror seemed. The more he could hear himself speaking, nearly chanting, her name. If this was death, he could accept it. If only she would move closer.

Despite the cry of his body, he felt the webbing rip and tear around his arm, and he could have cried aloud in joy as the chittering stopped. Everything seemed to stop.

“Is this what I deserve?” The thought echoed around them, and he was startled to feel her own voice echoing in his ears, tangled with his own. “Have I truly brought this on myself? Is this how it ends? You were always gone. You were always so distant. You were always so much better than I ever deserved. I’m so sorry. In the end, we always knew we’d end up here. We’d always end up broken. I’d always end up alone.”

“Were you?” Her voice was silenced as his grew in strength. “You only had to call. You only had to come to me. You were my everything!”

“Then… why?” The tears were back, and for a moment, the chittering pressed against his mind again. Her image flickered and faded, the ethereal glow darkening just so as hurt threatened to turn his success back into failure and pain. “If I was truly your everything, if nothing else mattered to you but me… why would you share yourself with another? Why would you act like you did, when you had promised yourself to me?”

“She… she understood. A kindred spirit who understood what loss and pain was. What abandonment and isolation could be.” He blinked, and the image of his beloved was so much closer and so much angrier. In her eyes, he could see the spider reflected, her tormented spirit twisting in stop-motion in the branches above him. 

“I couldn’t? Even at your darkest, you could reach out and touch someone! Your pain was inflicted by others, your torment and your exile the act of those who could appear at any moment!” Her nails dug into his flesh again, and she screamed her anger as they hooked and tore through skin and muscle without finesse. “I was abandoned! My world exploded around me, and I was alone. For thousands of years, my people and my family were only memories. My sisters, my parents… I was alone!

“If that’s all it took to give yourself to another,” his blood dripped from her claws as she stood before him, her head hung, “then how could all of my pain not be enough? You knew of my loss. Of my pain. You knew how broken I was before we ever mated, and how much a moment of infidelity could cripple me. Yet you loved another - …” Her hand lifted, and he saw the chitin already forming on the back of her arms, which only strengthened his words. 

“Never. We were parted, Temis. I traveled with the caravan when I could, but we were apart so very much. What happened was a mistake, a weekend of regret and nothing more. I can admit a moment of weakness. A moment of feeling alone, but I could never look you in the eye and tell you I loved her.” He saw the battle in her eyes, and even managed a quirk of his lips in a guilty grin as she spoke.

“My daughter?”

“I can admit that, Temis. It was wrong, but as she grew older, it was me she came to. I could deny her nothing, as I could deny you nothing. I should have had the strength, but I loved her as dearly as I loved you. Never more, but just the same. Losing you both… until recently, I never shared my bed again.”

“Who?” Though the hurt remained, he could see her anger abating as it had in life. Her rage was like a storm, and if he could survive the onslaught, he knew he could make it calm. 

“You used to call her my whore.”

“She’s alive? Turi…”

“Has been with her. He is a good man. You would be proud. You don’t need the Dream to know I’m speaking the truth. I may have hidden things from you, I may have made a poor choice or two along the way, but you know I would never lie to you. I came here to help you, though I did not realize it at first. Now, you need to let me go.”

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked in a sob, and she covered her face with her bloodstained hands. “Your body is here. You are dying, Marric. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No. No, it isn’t. Who else is here? Who else have you seen, but not hurt?”

“I…” Her eyes fluttered closed in thought. “The druid. She stays out of the shadows… but she doesn’t do anything. I feel her, but faint.”

“Bring her.”

Temis was silent, her eyes turning away from him and to the branches above him. The barb dissolved in his mouth, allowing him the first free groan that he could give, and it was almost too much. The chittering creature bore no resemblance to her any longer, the power that it had over him gone as he brought the once-huntress back from her own madness.

“I can’t. It’s too late.”

He opened his mouth to question her, but found his answer in the way the area dimmed around them. Like a wave that swallowed the beach, he felt only the pressure of the form of his love against him before darkness enveloped them both, and he was drowning in hateful whispers and pain that went beyond even what he had only just experienced. It was not long before he stopped his struggles, and gave himself over to the dark.

***

 

“They aren’t waking up.” 

Nyx turned his head, his eyes shifting through dream-like colors before finally focusing on Petra as she left the building that they had settled their companions in hours ago. As she settled beside him, they both turned their gaze towards the outskirts of the Eye, watching the inky-black shadows that personified the Nightmare weave against the barrier that had erected itself behind them. Within the pillars of green and gold, within the sanctum that was Ysera’s lair in her life, they were safe.

“You healed what damage you could, but not all scars are on the outside. The shade is bound eternally to the Dream, unless she chooses to pass on. Marric, however, has sustained great damage to his very psyche. You must learn, as your grandmother did, that you will not be able to save everyone. Sometimes, the only one who can save you is… yourself. Not all are strong enough.” His hand lifted, touching lightly on her shoulder. “You are inheriting an incredible power, but you are not infallible.”

“I know.” She managed a slight smile, a hand touching atop his own. “I was so frightened when we found him. All those spiders woven through his image… I thought I had failed just outside the gate. If you hadn’t been here, Nyx…”

“You would have been fine.” His eyes flicked over her profile before he turned away again, watching the shifting forms of his own personal demons beating at the barrier before dispersing only to appear somewhere else. “Your grandmother has left paths in her time here. We will be limited to them in our travels.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Hm?” His eyes flicked to meet her own, his head tilted just so. “No. Yes. As long as we lived, we learned that things would live and then they would die. We knew that, one day, the Nightmare would be unleashed and consume the Dream. I simply… never believed it would be in my lifetime. ‘Ella always said that I was far too optimistic, and that I would one day face that which whispered in her ear. I hated knowing that she could hear him. I also hated when she was right… there’s a reason she chose a cat.”

“You’re very snuggly?”

“No.” He smirked, and she matched it with a mischievous giggle. “When we argued, I would often become quite snooty. You’ve never seen anything until you’ve seen a dragon in a snit.”

“Do you see her? Out there, I mean.” Petra flicked her fingers towards the shapes that came and went against the barrier.

“No. When she was alive, she was more than just my ward. She was my friend, and a companion. I learned from her as much as she did from me, but I knew that when her end came, she would not be found here. There is no Nightmare that could convince me that she would be in that mass of mistaken memories. Who do you see?”

“My parents, mostly. A few friends, a guy or two I might have liked but nothing came of it. If I squint, I’m pretty sure I see my Headmistress naked, which is a little odd.” Her head tilted, chin propped in her palm as she leaned against the railing. “You?”

“My mate. Our children. My queen. Your parents… they’ve taken my tuna, I believe.”

“Really?”

“I was very fond of fish, surprisingly.” Nyxmerus watched her laugh, and marveled in the similarities between her and the one he had taken under his wing all those years before. “I still crave it. Perhaps, should we find ourselves near the sea, I will have myself one so fresh that it smacks me in the eye while I consume it.”

“Nyx, that’s horrible.” The druid covered her mouth to stifle her mirth, but it sobered quicker than he would have liked. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“Don’t be. I loved them as a lover and a father might, but they have passed and I have spent a number of years in the lives of another family. I would not trade that experience for the world, Petra. Do not let the ghosts of the past ruin your present, or darken your future.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No. She’d hit me if I tried. It was worse when she was pregnant. I’ve a number of scars on my hide that she delivered to me herself. I pray that you have not inherited her temper, at the very least.”

“Not sure I did. My mother says I’m more passive than she was at my age.” Petra shrugged lightly, and pulled the cloak she wore tighter around her shoulders. “I’m still not entirely sure I know what I’m doing. I’ve always dreamed of dragons, and Azeroth, and… and all of this. I just don’t understand it all.”

“Baby steps. That is something you can relate to, yes?” The elven man touched a hand to her head, comforting her as best he could, if a little awkwardly. “Brinella has made what we are to do quite clear. Find the dragons, and bring them home. Now that my mind is not muddied with that of a cat, I think I can assist far more readily.”

“Nyx?” Her head tipped up, and he frowned at the slight pout on her lips. “You’re the last green. You aren’t the last dragon, because I know that there are some that live near the Academy, but you are the last green… there won’t be anymore. How can we seek to do anything with the dragons if their magic has been stripped away? What use are they if they are simply… normal?”

“Mm.” At this, he chuckled softly and dropped his arm around her, drawing her close against his side. “Baby steps.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a considerable break, we return to Marric and Petra's journey. I'm ashamed to admit I had some issues with this chapter - it went through about five renditions before I finally went with what is here. Thank you for your patience!

"Marric!”

Petra was afraid, terrified of the absence of her companions as the sands swept around her and blinded her vision beyond a few feet ahead. Her cries were silenced in the howl of the wind, yet she screamed the name of her friends until her throat was as raw as her skin was. Unused to the heat, to how it would wick the moisture from her skin and leave it cracked and bleeding, she found herself soon consumed by a burn that threatened to blister her tormented flesh. Yet the storm seemed unending, and she could not shake the fear that had taken a tight hold of her heart.

“Nyx!” 

She knew the dragon would not answer her, yet she clung to the gifted scale from her grandmother like it was a lifeline to the beast that waited, patiently, for their return from the Caverns. They had flown on dragonback, Marric amused as he watched Petra bob and weave as a small sparrow beside the patient wings of their scaled companion, and she had relished watching the man recover. The month they had spent recovering within the Eye of Ysera, the very last bastion of safety in what was now completely Nightmare, had seemed like years to her… but it had been Marric who had said they needed to move on.

She had watched, with a large measure of homesick longing, as he had taken the memory of his wife in his arms and sworn to return to her and their daughter. She had seen the uncertainty on their faces, how neither knew how true that statement could be, yet how they trusted one another completely. Temis, healed from her hatred, now waited for him among the realm of the dead - and Nyx, ever aware of what it was like to be alone, had acted as a guide in his dreams to make sure they would be together when the dying man had slept.

They had decided, perhaps for their sanity, to go after the timeless Bronze flight, first. Nyx had let them down nearby, but warned that he would not be able to accompany them. To Marric, he had gifted one of his own scales, and told them to keep hold of them so that the magics that were so deeply wound around the flights would not affect them. So they had, without Nyx, set off towards the caverns.

The storm had come upon them quickly, and though Marric had grabbed her hand to hold while he had taken up a position of guide and guard through the stinging sand, it had taken only a moment to lose him, just a second to stumble and her hand lost his and did not find it again. She had screamed for him, crouched in place in the sand and yelled for him until the wild winds had taken the cloth she’d wound around her head and she knew, as one knew when danger approached, that she needed to move.

That had been hours ago, and there had been no end to the storm and no sign of her friends. With no landmarks to follow, and no faith in the unmoving sun that bore down above her, Petra had gone through her carefully measured water, had lost vital pieces of clothing, and was now fast approaching what she believed was delerium.

Shadows walked just outside her vision, and she could swear that in the swirling storm were flying figures. With no other option left to her, she staggered after them and begged help beneath her breath until her feet, bare from stumbling and tearing over rocks, could move no longer. Sand filled her mouth as she collapsed, and this time she did not rise. Far past tired and well into exhausted, she pulled herself into a ball and hid her face, and made no attempt to move as the sands began to cover her.

It was that feeling, the incoming sense of peril and death, that surrounded her and would have brought tears to her eyes if she had been capable of it. Before the dark took her, before the sands blinded her and stifled her breathing, she was aware only of a strong touch on what little of her remained above the grit, and the sense of being lifted, before falling into a deep and troubled sleep.  
It was pain that she woke to, the remnants of the storm peppering her skin in phantom motions that brought a pained mewl from her even as the fierce burn that covered her brought a deeper noise of discomfort. Gritting her teeth, Petra rolled to her back and found heavy weight on her wrists and ankles. Her lids fluttered, eyelashes dancing over cloth that was bound tight to her head to hide her surroundings from view. The idea to change, to call on the spirits of the animals that lingered within her, came and went when she found that she could not bring herself to focus.

Breathing hard, she moved to try and sit up, biting back a whimper as pain flashed up along her body. Calming herself, her fingertips curled along the weight on her wrists - manacles, or something nearly as archaic. She could not determine the metal, not even after focusing, but could tell that they were mirrored by the ones on her ankles. Slowly, she pushed the fabric over her eyes upwards and looked around.

Water met her senses first - the damp scent and soft trickle, and with a groan she pushed herself to a stand and placed hands on a nearby wall, following the sound. She did not question that the manacles were free - there were no chains connecting them, no doubt because it was needless. As weak as she recognized that she was, the weight of the metal alone was taxing on her battered form, yet she knew that remaining still was not an option. Her body cried for the liquid that it could hear, and ever the woman to follow instinct, Petra struggled with every step towards the sound of comfort.

Such was her intensity, she cared little as to her path. She barely noticed that her surroundings were caverns, the dark stone struck through with faint lines of blue that pulsed dimly beneath her hands where she touched the surface of the slick material. Her breathing became more ragged the closer she came to her destination, and when she at last found her way into the alcove, she dropped to her knees at the side of the small pool and sank her hands gratefully into the water.

It did not take long for her to bathe herself in the water, sluicing it up over her arms in a struggle against the weight of the manacles. She drank deep and hurried, as if afraid the water itself might simply vanish. Her attention did not deviate from it except for a brief moment where she ripped the shredded remains of her bloodied tunic from her body and drenched her burned skin in the cool liquid, nearly sobbing as she found brief relief from the pain of her parched skin.

“Protected.”

The word was a whisper she nearly missed in her haste to wash the dirt and sand from her body, but the cautiously menacing tone was what attracted her attention more than anything else. Her movements slowed, then paused, head tilted as if expecting to hear it again. When nothing but the sound of a breeze through the corridors met her ears, she turned back to the water and gasped.

Reflected in the water was a face pale enough to be cut from stone by a master hand, glittering eyes of a blue that matched the glow that struck through the walls and hair so dark it seemed to fade into the shadows. Her hands snapped from the water and she turned, eyes wide as her instincts urged her to turn tail and run, and she tried. The figure, familiar to her as only the elves she grew up among could be, reached for her and caught skin, pulling a yelp of pain from her as he touched stinging skin and she stumbled into the wall.

“She hears. She knows. The scale, my sons. Fetch the scale.”

There was no whisper. The very walls resonated with the voice, as if the earth itself sought to alert her to the overwhelming presence. Confused, Petra backed further from the outstretched hand that sought to touch her again, and she turned to flee and found herself stopped short by another. This one was human, but taller than the ones she knew. He rivaled even the worgen males she knew, but where the one that lingered behind her was pale, he was dark - skin a deep bronze and hair of black, he was bared to his waist but for the odd cloak around his shoulders. It moved like living fabric, tickling the back of her mind with a familiarity that was swept from her as she felt him touch her bare skin - and it was like fire.

Expert fingers, made rough with what might have been days of labor, touched gently over her skin. Feather-light, one trailed along her collarbone and upwards until the pad of his thumb touched her jaw and stroked along her skin. It was the other one, which skated around the scale that hung freely from it’s chain between her breasts, and dipped between them, dragging over one hardened nipple, that tore a sound from her and made her knees go weak. His hand gripped the soft flesh and pressed, kneading just once, before the other dropped to steady her.

She felt, more than saw, the other one behind her. Almost thankfully, her body leaned back into him and sought his strength as his hands settled on her waist, tempting fingers beneath the hem of her pants. Her dark companion watched her with a curious expression, as if expecting her to resist more strongly, but when she made no attempt to and instead quivered between them, he dipped his head forward and pressed his lips to her own.

Warm and insistent, his tongue stroked against her lips and without thought she responded by parting her own. A muffled sound, perhaps complaint and perhaps arousal, was passed from her to him as his pale accomplice slid his hands lower, pushing the fabric of her pants further down over her wide hips until his thumbs grazed her tended mound in a tempting tease. Her squirm, the little movement she made to resist their puzzling advance, served only to ease the item of clothing down her legs to bundle at her feet.

“Tend to her.”

There was dark purpose in those words, as well as the chuckle that accompanied them moments later when she broke the kiss to seek out the speaker. Her lips were captured again quickly, and a gasped moan tore from her throat as pale fingers pressed along her slit and then between, testing her. Not for long, as her body responded willingly, and her cheeks burned scarlet when the unfamiliar sensation of an unbidden climax tightened her walls around the exploring fingers.

She heard them laugh quietly when her thighs tensed and quivered, her legs buckling as a heated groan left her. The one in front of her stepped back, and she fell willingly against him as darkness swept her away on a cloud of pain-laced pleasure.

When she woke again, she was aware of warmth and comfort. Her first feeling was of a lack of pain, of skin that did not stretch painfully when she shifted, of no sting against her lips or painful burn. It was too dark for her to see herself, the faint blue of the pulsing walls making it difficult to discern much of anything about herself. The feeling that followed came as she shifted her leg, felt it suspended with a weight pressed into her inner thigh, and a thick heat rubbing against her folds.

Something strange nudged against her bared pearl - her nethers spread around the invader, and the noise that caught her by surprise was her own. A hot moan laced with a needy growl. It was a noise she’d never made before, and it came from a place she’d never explored, that no one had ever explored with her. Her head fell back and hit the firm shoulder of a figure behind her, and her upturned eyes caught a flash of white in the gloom before stars sparked behind her eyes and she whimpered a pleasured moan.

Fingers caught in sheets, gripping tight as the steady roll of her companion’s hips nudged his cockhead against her clit and then further, making her held leg quiver fiercely as the sensitive nub dragged against oddly formed flesh. Inexperienced and hazy, Petra could not understand the difference that she felt - only that the eager movements, though slow, were strangely wrong. She could feel her cheeks burn once more as a wet sensation touched her thighs, and she realized that it came from her. The hand holding her leg up eased the limb down, and she felt the hot flesh that now slowly pistoned between her slick thighs twitch and tremble.

The hand that had held her leg slid up her body, dragging nails over healed and washed skin, to grip her breast firmly as the other hand slid beneath her and around, holding her tight to him - her back to his front - as his teeth settled on her shoulder and a muffled growl was released. Something wild within her pulsed and writhed, responding to that growl with a roll of her hips and a noise of her own. She could see the flash of his eyes, of surprise hidden behind lust, and felt the teeth threaten to break skin as she rolled her hips again and let her head fall down against the pillows.

The shadows made it difficult to see the other, even when he joined them on the bed. His weight was all that she could really focus on, the way that his careful approach made her shift against the pale one behind her. She felt him lay beside her, his fingers touching along her jaw and moving hair from her eyes, and he slowly became known to her as her eyes adjusted to his presence, focusing first on the steady blue of his gaze over her naked body.

When he bent near again, her lips parted without needing to be coaxed, and she groaned into their kiss while his hand slid along her stomach to her mound, dipping between his accomplices cock and her slit to slip his middle finger into her. At first slowly, letting her adjust to the new sensation - where his companions fingers were slender and firm, his were thicker and rough, and she felt his entrance keenly. Knuckle by knuckle, by the time his palm settled against her mound and he could gently grind the flesh against her clit, her walls were threatening to clench tight around him.

His mouth left hers, murmured words in an accented language that she couldn’t understand, but felt like she should have been able to. They came in and out of her hearing, and the two conversed in low tones for a few moments before the pale one coaxed her head to turn and drew her into a kiss while his companion adjusted and lifted her leg to allow him easier access. He was thicker than his brethren, who had retreated enough to slide his slick member between the cheeks of her ass, idly fucking the supple flesh while the other treated himself to her thighs.

Petra wanted to resist, but they were foreign and familiar, tempting her in a manner she could not begin to fathom. She knew what they were doing in the way someone who read a naughty novel might understand the act, but never had she felt the fire herself. When one nosed her head up and bared her neck to him, her hand tightened around muscled bicep as teeth bore into her neck, and before she could think to complain, she felt the thick and ridged cockhead of the one before her press against her slit and slowly drive deeper.

The pain was new and exquisite, his odd shape parting her easily around him despite his size, and when he’d made it only halfway in he pulled out, and she felt the other take his turn. Lacking some of the girth of his partner, he made up for it in length, nearly bottoming out within her before he, too, withdrew. When she thought of complaining, and tried to form the words to do so, her breath was stolen from her by one, and then the other. In tandem, they worked her, one after the other delving into her until they had both managed to loosen her for one another.

Then they began in earnest. Petra found her breath stolen as the dark one rolled to his back and took her with him, forcing her to straddle him as he pressed up into her and gripped her hips, guiding her into the ride. Her hands, still bearing the manacles, pressed against his chest and she whimpered her complaint as the new position forced her wider for him and left her no opportunity to gather her thoughts, his cockhead easily pressing - but not violating - her most inner barrier.

Yet she was aware of him, aware of them. No more were they masked, and she caught a glint of gold and green from the corner of her eye, lit by the dim light of the room. The scale no longer hung around her neck, and instead dangled from a hooked protrusion of the wall. Her eyes focused on it briefly, but there was no worry. There should have been, she felt. As quickly as the unsettled feeling came it was gone, replaced by the slick sensation of coated fingers playing with the sensitive pucker of her ass.

One finger, then another, then a third. They wiggled their way into the hole with firm insistence, spreading her slowly until the pale one pressed between her shoulderblades to bend her forward. His brother wrapped an arm around her back and stilled his movements, holding her tight as the one behind her teased her pucker with his cockhead and slowly pushed forward, spreading her further. Petra muffled her discomfort against the chest of the one who held her, and their movements eased as they felt her resistance.

The words came again, the gentle tone calming her as much as the strong fingers of one did while pulling through her hair. There was a sense of affection, of adoration and desire that went far beyond the usual feelings of those newly met. Her whimpers eased and turned to moans as her pale lover began once more and the other withdrew, allowing her to feel pleasure without the bite of pain that came with being too full. Long minutes passed, and the strong hands left her back and her hair to fall to her ass, spreading her cheeks to help her lover bottom out within her, a satisfied growl leaving him.

He reached, cupping a hand beneath her chin to tilt her head back, and though it strained her, she met him in a heated kiss that did nothing to diminish the hot moan as the first pressed back into her. Before she could complain, the pale one withdrew until only his cocktip was still inside of her and then it was gone, only to be present again as he toyed with that ring while his companion pulled her down on him. Their pace quickened, until they had found an easy motion that left her briefly stuffed full before one would withdraw and then the other, before chasing one another back into her depths.

The one beneath her lifted just so, dragging a hot tongue up her neck as she felt her climax build. She no longer fought the pleasure, instead following their guidance. She did not simply lay still, but rolled her hips to join them in their fucking until the only thing she could focus on was how her body burned. She was chasing pleasure, aware as their lips touched her skin and pressed fiery kisses to her neck and shoulders, took her nipples into a hot mouth that teased teeth along the sensitive skin, and the resounding slap of flesh on flesh as their tandem motion became quick and fierce.

It was madness and insanity, her entire being focused on that glimmering spark of pleasure dancing annoying just out of reach while her legs tensed and quivered and she bucked back against her pale lover, the dark one taking her hips in hand and pulling her down as his mouth closed over one of her shoulders. He did not break through, instead pulsing dangerously against her cervix while his brother drove deep into her and drove his teeth into her opposite shoulder. 

Her mind blanked, their closeness holding her in place as her entire body tensed and then exploded in warmth, drenching her dark lover’s cock in her honey as she threw her head back and screamed in agonized pleasure. She felt them twitch once, twice, and then a third pulse before she was flooded with thick spurts of cum and they joined her cry with growls of their own as their balls emptied their load inside of their whimpering partner.

They did not withdraw for some time, as if aware of the hurt that had begun to push at the fading pleasure. Their cocks barely seemed to diminish, and she was only just barely aware of one pulling from her before the other did, and she mumbled - somewhat foolishly - quiet apologies as their seed leaked from her gaping holes. Weary, she was more than content to attempt to curl up between them, a soft moan of complaint leaving her as the powerful, rumbling voice from before spoke around them.

“Bring her to me.”

One of them picked her up, dragging a sheet with her as they both moved through the corridors. Petra curled against her bearer, half-dozing and uncaring of the path taken through the caverns. When they at last came to a stop, it was only to set her down on the smooth floor. Her feet attempted purchase, but she did not stay standing for long, falling - with their assistance - to her knees on the floor.

The man before her was larger even than her dark partner, and he watched her with those same glimmering eyes the other two shared. From his seat on a throne of dark stone, he observed her with the calculating gaze of one gauging a hazard - something that Petra no longer considered herself capable of. The fight, in fact, had left her. Before the silent man, whose very presence commanded respect, she felt very little need or want to attack.

His hand, vaguely clawed, moved from the shadows inherent to the darkness, and pulled the cloth wrapped around his waist to the side, grasping his cock in hand and giving it a few languid strokes. Just enough to judge her reactions and, as she licked her lips and shifted to her hands and knees, motion for her to come closer.

The woman that crawled to him, who willingly bowed her head in reverence and pressed her nose against his sac, no longer cared about Azeroth or her home. The woman who cooed as a clawed hand touched on her head and stroked, almost lovingly, through wine-dark strands had no friends that she had become separated from. She had no family, no allegiances to any but those who were in the massive room with her. Petra, the valiant defender of a dying world, cared for little more than to bring the man pleasure, and as her tongue dragged up the scaled shaft of the one before her and drew a rumbling groan from deep in his chest, she knew that she would do her very best.

As Petra’s lips wrapped around the man’s cockhead, he flicked glittering eyes to the two who still waited, their cock standing proud at the sight of their lover so willfully serving their master. He waved a hand, and the cavern rang with his order as the shadows shifted behind him, wings of gunmetal gray struck through with blue fluttering once before resting again.

“Find her friend… and kill him.”


End file.
